AN  IDYL  OF  THE  SUN 


OTHER  POEMS. 


ORR1N  CEDESMAN  STEVENS. 


HOLYOKE,  MASS. 

Griffith,  Axtell  &  Cady  Company. 
i8gi 


ps 


X? 


CrHT,  1891, 

BY  O.  C.  STEVENS. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

1      Idyl  of  the  Sun  ......  9 

ic  Common  Man    .......  ;y> 

The  Music  of  Graves        ......  3f> 

The  Christmas  Table 3tj 

The  Two  Discoveries        ....  ;!7 

The  Valkyries           .......  ;!<) 

Tlie  Dead  Day  41 

The  Laggard     .......  40 

The  Two  Claimants          .'.....  ~>o 

The  Last  Prayer ;->N 

The  Wonderful  Workmen                          ,  C7 

The  Tramp        ......  ,S4 

Democracy        .......  <»0 

The  Subject  Spirit «)<i 

The  Whole  Truth lo;, 

Love  in  the  Lijyht     ......  1^4 

The  Lost  Cine            ......  l^S 

Ajjainst  the  Wind 131 

A  Prayer  to  Morning        ......  1;;:; 

The  Model         .......  i  ;',.•> 

An  Arrowhead           ......  138 

Peace  is  but  Weakness  of  Spirit      .         .         .         .         ,140 

Morninjr  Song 141 

The  Bridegroom        .....  142 


0  CONTENTS. 

TACK. 

The  Lost  Flower 144 

A  Homely  Face 14 1; 

The  Leader 147 

The  Permanent 14!» 

The  Veil 151 

The  South  Winds.  15i> 

The  Blind  Bird ,         .  154 

Song          ..........  155 

Lament     .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  15C 

Misgivings        .........  157 

An  Apologue    .         .         .          .          .          .          .          .          .  15,s 

No  Beauty  There ICO 

To  II.  M.  A 1C? 

To, I.  K.  L 1CS 

The  Runner       .........  HI!* 

Old  New-Year's  Day 170 

Brazil 171 

The  Talking  Tests  the  Song 17L' 

Opposed    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .          .         .17.") 

Midsummer       .         .         .         .          .          .         .          .          .174 

Met  ween  the  Earth  and  Sun      ......  175 

My  Songstress  .         .          .         .         .          .          .         .177 

Love's  Retrospect      .         .         .         .         .         .          .          .  17s 

To  a  Noble  Woman  .         .         .          .          .          .          .1*0 

White  Clover    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  ]«;>, 

Second  Childhood     .......  I,s4 

Love  Sonnet      .......  1S5 

To —  LSI; 

Sleep's  Stained  Glass       ....  isii 

Memory    .......  i;i;; 

The  rnec|iial  Lovers  I;M; 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  SUN 

AM) 

OTHER    POEMS. 


ERRATA. 

Page  46,  line  2,  for  reflection  read  refection. 
Page  73,  line  6,  for  besides  read  beside. 
Page  98,  line  8,  for  disorded  read  disordered. 
Page  105,  line  15,  for  /irtj  read  //^v/. 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  SUN. 


ARDO.     Above  the  white  crown  of  our  sacred  tree, 

Whose  roots  are  watered  by  the  seven  streams 

Which  issue  from  one  fount,  let  us  retire  ; 

And  let  the  radiance  of  its  luminous  leaves, 

Which  furnish  light  to  earth,  afford  us  shade. 

And  we  will  leave  unaided,  for  awhile, 

Our  dear  companions  of  the  forceful  rites, 

And  mingle  new  with  simpler,  ancient  joys. — 

See  !  as  I  kiss  thy  loving  lips  again, 

That  new,  red  rose  hang  quivering  on  its  stalk, 

Before  the  window  of  that  far  earth  home. 

TIXTA.     And  I  will  think  of  thee,  and  breathe  thy  name, 

To  give  it  deeper  fragrance. 

ARDO.  I  will  take  thy  hand 

In  mine,  and  hold  it  long  and  restfully, 

To  make  the  flower  cling  firmly  to  its  stem, 

Until  some  lover  asks  it  as  a  mate 

To  his  beloved's  heart. 

TINTA.  I  give  thee  thanks, 

O  lover,  husband,  prince,  that  thou  dost  yet 

Give  thought  to  me,  and  still  the  joy  dost  find, 


10  AAr  IDYL   OF  THE  Si/'AT. 

Which  thou  didst  put  into  my  heart  on  earth. 

For  when  I  see  those  seven  chromatic  bands — 

The  symbols  of  the  seven  solar  powers — 

So  clear  upon  thy  radiant  white  arm, 

And  then  look  down  upon  mine  own,  to  find 

One  only  shining  dimly  in  its  place, 

I  sorrow  inconsolably  ;  and  would 

That  all  the  glories  which  beset  mine  eyes 

Were  changed  for  store  of  common,  earthly  tears, 

Which  may  not  be  found  here.     Still  dost  thou  stoop, 

As  ever  thou  hast  done,  to  give  me  love. 

ARDO.     Tinta,  there  is  no  high  or  low  to  hearts  ! 

They  ever  rock  upon  the  same  sea-level, 

Feel  the  same  tides,  and  in  the  frequent  calms, 

Moor  their  light  keels  with  rapture  side  by  side. 

Speak  not  of  tears  ;  in  all  this  wi/ard  world 

There  is  no  craftsman  who  can  make  a  tear  ! 

Nor  in  the  universe,  might  there  be  found 

Fssence  so  fine,  hue  so  immaculate 

(Not  even  if  we  sought  amid  the  dreams 

And  vision-daring  purposes  of  gods) 

As  might  be  moulded  into  fitting  tears 

For  thy  pure  eyes.     Think  nevermore  of  grief ! 

Grief  is  a  cripple  who  can  never  move, 

Save  when  supported  by  two  subject  hearts, 

One  on  each  side.     Ah,  sweet,  apostate  soul, 

One  cannot  mourn  without  another's  aid  ; 

And  I  alone  might  aid  thee  and  1  will  not. 


AN  in\'l.   OF  THE  .SY/7V.  11 

Again  I  say,   I  love  thce  !  be  thou  glad  ! 

TINTA.     Oh,  that  word  love,  when  spoken  by  thy  lips, 

Doth  shape  itself  into  a  trumpet's  curves, 

Through  which  the  voice  of  some  far  deity 

Doth  storm  the  last  earth  rampart  of  my  heart, 

And  take  it  prisoner  to  a  deathless  thrall  ! 

Now,  first  1  look  upon  thee  without  fear, 

Since  thou  didst  shore  for  me,  with  thine  own  breast, 

The  boundless  stream  which  bore  me  hitherward  ; 

Whereon  the  earth  danced  like  a  withered  leaf, 

And  all  the  stars  seemed  whirling  molecules 

Of  phosphorescent  frenzy.     Now,  I  dare 

To  note  how  thou  art  changed  ;  how  thy  new  life 

Seems  like  a  crystal  sheath  upon  the  old, 

Hiding  no  loving  line,  but  adding  to  it. 

It  is  as  though  thine  older,  lesser  form, 

Compressed  by  muscle  bands,  which  grooved  the  arms, 

Oirt  close  the  struggling  waist,  and  tightened  down 

The  mighty  shoulders'  buoyancy, 

Had  lightly,  when  the  corded  thongs  were  cut, 

By  force  of  its  divine,  expansive  energy, 

Sprung  up  to  its  balked  stature,  and  revealed 

Its  natural  majesty  all  unrestrained. 

As  now  I  gaze,  thy  broad,  bright  bosom  seems 

A  golden  stream,  deep  in  whose  lighted  depths, 

Are  imaged  clearly  all  the  godlike  deeds 

And  tender  favors  of  o'erhanging  arms, 

With  shadowy,  dim  shapes  associate, 


!•_>  AN  //)}'/.   OF  Till'.   SUN. 

Of  future  fondness  brooding  in  thy  heart. 
Upon  its  peaceful  currents  are  mine  eyes 
Borne  on,  with  wonder,  to  the  whirlpool  face, 
Which  draws  mine  own  into  its  blissful  charm. 
Here,  in  a  spirit  trance,  I  travel  round  and  round, 
Tapering  the  large  delight  down  to  a  point, 
That  I  may  ever  again  look  away. 

0  speech  divine  !  that,  like  a  cleansing  storm, 
Doth  sweep  from  seraph  lips  all  vestiges 

Of  faulty  human  uses,  and  leaves  bare 

The  prints  of  love  alone.     Thy  lips  are  changed, 

Yet  are  the  likeness  of  the  lips  I  kissed 

With  freedom  on  the  earth.     So  sentient 

In  every  point  thy  light-absorbing  face, 

Vision  doth  never  weary  thy  calm  eyes, 

But  leaves  them  fresh  for  forming  loving  looks  ; 

Else  might  I  never  look  upon  thee  thus. 

ARDO.     Remembrest  thou,  dearTinta,  how,  on  earth, 

A  little  thing  grew  larger  when  advanced 

('lose  to  the  eyes?  and  canst  thou  now  believe 

That,  the  vast  spaces  of  material  things 

1  Mspelled  between  us,  and  thy  very  self 
Brought  near  my  spiritual  vision,  there  is  room 
For  my  glad  sight  to  pass  thy  broadened  beauty  ? 
Nay  then  !  it  stops  in  thee,  and  is  filled  up, 
Contented,  to  its  farthest  boundaries  ! 
Thinkest  thou  that  the  diver  finds  the  pearl 

As  lovely  in  its  shady  place,  as  when 


.-/.v  IDYL  or  THE  su\r. 

The  sun  shall  dry  the  moistened  gem  in  his  hand, 
Above  the  water?     Shall  not  the  obscure, 
Hut  matchless  fabrics  of  night's  labratories, 
When  set  in  morning's  open  galleries, 
Kxtract  new  wonder  from  our  stricken  sight? 

0  thou  who  wert  the  fairest  thing  on  earth  ! 
By  bathing  in  our  iridescent  streams, 
Thou  hast  imparted  to  thy  gathered  grace 

The  mermaid's  dripping  beauty.     Scarce  I  dare 

To  look  upon  one  place,  so  dangerous 

Its  violent  splendor  to  my  careless  eyes, 

Relaxed  and  resting  ;  but,  secure,  I  turn 

Them  to  thine  own,  which  lie  like  peaceful  isles, 

Twinned  in  a  sea  of  glory,  and  now  stilled 

By  the  soft  wavelets  of  thy  soothing  lids 

To  an  enchanted  peace.     How  vast  the  space 

From  those  young  worlds  to  the  old  grizzled  earth 

Toward  which  they  turn  ! 

TINTA.  My  wonder  cannot  cease, 

When  I  look  down  upon  the  earth,  and  see 

How  changed  she  seems.     See  now,  how  dull  she  is  ! 

As  she  doth  blindly  stagger  on  between 

Those  close  and  cousinly  divinities, 

Twilight  and  Dawn.     How  earnestly  they  strive 

To  rouse  the  memories  of  an  earlier  life 

( )f  star-like  energy  !     See,  how  the  wind 

1  )oth  beat  her  heavy  temples,  and  the  scourge 
Of  lightning's  passion  strikes  her  senseless  back  ! 


H  A  A7  IDYL   OF  THE  SUX. 

Even  the  sleeping  Titan  in  her  heart 

Starts  vainly  in  her  dreams,  and  fitfully 

Doth  struggle,  though  unconscious  '.      Hut,  alas  ! 

The  stupor  lingers.     Now  she  dumbly  turns, 

Until  the  sunrise  warms  the  very  spot 

Where  we  first  loved.     There  must  be  feeling  there  \ 

ARDO.     ()  sunrise  of  the  earth,  what  is  thy  pain  ! 

How  dost  thou  mourn  for  all  that  thou  dost  miss, 

Each  morning,  from  the  open  treasuries 

Heaped  by  the  last  day's  potent  industry  I 

What  traveler  of  the  shining,  silvery  road 

( )f  life  and  love,  when  he  falls  headlong  down 

The  frequent  chasms  dug  by  Night  and  Sleep, 

Drops  nothing  from  his  bruised  and  aching  hand? 

()  how  may  one  fit  on  the  broken  stalk 

( )f  yesterday,  new  flowers  of  this  day's  happiness? 

How  may  his  span  of  love  reach  far  as  that  of  life, 

When  darkness  hinders  not  the  one,  but  coils 

The  other  back  upon  weak  memories? 

Ever,  on  earth,  is  day's  love-ripened  fruit 

Pecked  by  the  Vulture  Night  ! 

Tix'i'A  Hut  one  who  loves, 

Will  sleep  so  light,  and  keep  her  heart  so  white, 

That  no  night  birds  shall  find  there  any  perch  : 

And  day  shall  add  itself  to  day,  and  love 

Stretch  far  and  flawless. 

ARDO.  Yes,  when  that  one  be  as  thou. 

But  yet,  how  blind  and  weak  we  were,  at  best  ! 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  SUN.  15 

How  hidden  from  ourselves  our  spiritualities  ! 
And  how  we  aided  our  own  hindrances  ! 
Often,  when  thou  didst  offer  me,  with  smiles, 
Thy  right  hand's  treasures,  I  would  sei/e  the  left ; 
Or  when  the  very  symbol  of  thy  soul 
Sat  on  thy  silent  lips,  mine  own  have  broke 
The  holy  thing  with  missile  words  ;  and  when 
Thy  solar-working  heart  built  round  mine  own 
Halos  to  bless  it,  I  have  broken  through. 
Oft  in  the  white  flower  of  thy  love  I  saw 
Only  the  earth  honey  ;  from  thy  purest  word, 
Have  turned  to  kiss  the  lip's  red  stain,  and  thus 
Defrauded  thy  sweet  heart.     And  many  times 
Those  star  songs  that  do  sound  alone  through  lips 
Of  fortunate  moments,  have  been  fiercely  scorned, 
For  those  coarse  strains,  which  only  may  be  struck 
From  strings  of  sensuous  days. 
TINTA.  Hut,  even  then 

Thou  lovedst  me  as  now  ;   'twas  ever  plain  : 
Error's  tortuous  path  led  ever  to  that  goal. 
The  widening  circles  in  the  troubled  deeps 
Sprung  from  a  golden  stone.      Pain  cold  not  pluck 
The  one  white  feather  from  her  raven  wings; 
And  every  horrifying  thing  was  wreathed 
With  visions  of  thy  name.     And  many  times 
The  iron  ball  of  inconsiderate  speech, 
By  the  swift  fervor  of  love's  afterthought, 
Was  melted  ere  it  struck  ;  while,  frequently, 


10  .-//V  IDYL  OF  THE  SUN. 

I  wronged  thee  with  mistaken  estimates 

Of  thine  own  worth.     That  mighty  will  of  thine 

Seemed  often  but  the  body's  urgency, 

The  downward  plunging  of  the  waterfall, 

Instead  of  the  strong  geyser's  living  leap  : 

Yet  would  I  see  the  rainbow  of  thy  love 

Upon  it,  and  feared  not. 

ARDO.  Still  blind  were  we, 

And  blind  remain  our  fellows  of  the  earth. 

Yet  naught  gropes  there  but  man  ;  the  Hying  cloud 

Keeps  well  its  path  at  midnight ;  the  lithe  stream 

Makes  its  long  practiced  leap  from  rock  to  rock, 

When  darkness  drapes  with  doubt  the  changing  way 

As  surely  as  when  sunlight  leads  :   each  tlower 

Kinds  its  own  place  upon  the  populous  stalk, 

And  fills  the  secret  channels  of  the  air 

With  flowing  fragrance  ;  and  the  whole  earth's 

Dense  barriers  turn  not  the  emerald  streams, 

Which  hasten  to  the  fountains  of  the  trees  ; 

Hut  man  must  tremblingly  and  in  the  dark 

Contest  his  spiritual  footings  ;   be  content 

To  touch,  with  blind  and  baffled  finger-tips, 

Only  some  earthly  thing  his  spirit-mate 

Has  worn  upon  her  heart  :  to  wander  round 

And  round  the  shrine  wherein  she  lonely  kneels 

But  find  no  entrance  door  on  any  side  : 

Nor  hear  the  name  of  that  divinity 

She  worships  daily  in  her  whispered  prayer. 


.  I. V  //)}'/.   OI-    THE  SCN.  17 

His  senses  seem  but  sheaths  of  some  divine 

And  vibrant  energies  ;  like  promontories, 

Which  jut  into  the  deeps  of  the  divine, 

Are  the  vast  cloud-heaps  o'er  his  stormy  thought, 

Wherein  his  spirit-voice  is  faintly  heard, 

Like  muffled  thunders  vaguely  terrible  :  — 

The  cold,  clay  handles  of  the  infinite, 

Alone  meet  everywhere  his  own  clay  hand  ! 

TIXTA.     Ikit  love,  the  subtle,  incondensable, 

Doth  flow  about  him,  like  an  atmosphere  : 

And  golden- winged  birds  fly  evermore 

From  soul  to  soul,  with  mystic  messages 

Not  wholly  written  in  unmeaning  signs. 

( )  husband  of  the  two- fold  unity  ! 

Had  I  not  learned,  while  yet  upon  the  earth, 

The  outline  of  thine  inner  worthiness 

And  guessed  the  beauty  of  thy  spirit  face, 

Could  I  have  traced  thee  here?      But  when  lone  Death, 

With  strange  inversion  of  official  power, 

Hid  come  and  kill  the  whole  material  world, 

To  make  thee  live  the  plainer  in  my  heart ; 

Saw  I  not  there  the  very  image  of  thyself? — 

Thy  luminous  face  turned  hither,  and  thy  hand 

Stretched  backward  after  mine  ?     And  when  I  walked 

Across  the  earthly  ruin  Death  had  made, 

And  followed  thee  in  space,  no  need  to  ask  : 

"Where  went  the  spirit  stronger  than  the  earth, 

With  solar  flight  and  backward  turning  face?" 


is  ,./.v  invr.  OF  THE  SUN. 

No  need  to  seek  the  signal  plumes  let  fall 
From  thy  flame  wings  along  the  unknown  way  ! 
Thy  distant  goal  I  knew  before  I  died  ; 
And  1  but  turned  my  longing  eyes  that  way, 
And,  on  the  currents  of  etherial  life, 
Did  simply  float  again  into  thine  arms. 

ARUO.     ()  sweetest  drift  that  ever  comforted 
Those  awful  tides  !     Wonder  of  woman's  love  ! 
That  it  had  power  to  guide  thee  safely  here, 
And  charm  the  deeps  to  render  up  their  charge. 
While  still  such  rayless  voids  delay  their  currents, — 
Such  drear,  dead  spaces  !     Oh  !   for  this  one  hour, 
Would  1  live  myriads  of  darkened  years 
Upon  the  earth,  in  caverns  unexplored 
By  all  save  Night,  and  where  the  baffled  sight 
Withers  away  in  her  black  floating  sand  ; 
Or  be  enclosed  in  countless  folds  of  rock, 
Bent  for  the  purpose  :   or  be  ages  whirled 
Upon  the  trackless,  unprogressing  wheel 
Of  some  air  vortex  !      Bright  were  that  deep  c.ive, 
Where  I  might  tunnel  through  the  stagnant  years 
To  find  thy  light  !     Unfeared  the  rocky  cell 
Which  opened  at  thy  feet  I     And  there  were  peace 
Within  the  whirlpool,  if  the  last  revolve 
Should  draw  thee  in  ! 

It  is  a  grace  unmatched 
In  all  Infinity's  love-laborings, 
That  our  superior  rites  are  not  allowed  to  one  ; 


AN  IDYL   Of-'  THE  SUN.  19 

That  only  two,  whose  equal  heart-beats  strike 

At  the  same  moment,  and  evoke  a  sound 

From  out  the  slender  scepter  of  our  King, 

Like  his  own  holy  music,  can  perform 

Those  ministrations  nearest  to  his  throne. 

But  thy  true  heart  doth  part  its  longing  beat, 

Beneath  its  polished  silver  bells,  to  catch 

The  single  sound  of  mine  between 

Its  clasping  chimes,  and  keep  it  sweetly-safe, 

In  happy  unison.     I  offer  thanks  ! 

That  one  alone  dares  not  the  highest  joys ; 

But  two  together,  with  their  arms  entwined, 

And  fingers  clasped  to  brace  the  fragile  heart, 

Can  only  venture  them,  and  cautiously. 

'Tis  said  that  there  are  orbs  that  restless  roam 

Through  alien  and  unrecognizing  worlds, 

Inhabited  by  single,  self-enveloped  souls, 

Who  ever  lie  amid  the  fields'  cold  blanks, 

Beneath  a  starless  wreck  of  low,  grey  sky, 

And  contemplate  their  mighty,  passive  limbs, 

Their  useless  arms,  and  breasts  untenanted, 

And  hear  the  lone  heart  beat  its  solemn  knell 

Upon  the  trembling  ground  ;  and  they  are  bound 

To  stay  in  that  eternal  solitude  ; 

For  they  are  powerless  to  summon  there 

Even  a  spectral  life  of  phantasy 

To  share  that  boundless  emptiness. 

And  when,  sometimes,  despairing  they  would  thrust 


20  AN  IDYL   OP  THE 

The  naked  blade  of  vision,  yet  unfleshed 

In  the  warm  body  of  material  things, 

Back  to  its  scabbard  of  the  inner  life, 

They  stop,  appalled,  before  that  awful  view 

Of  darkened  ruins,  like  a  dead  star's  face, 

Of  rayless  peaks  and  chasms  probeless,  black, 

And  mists  of  misery  enshrouding  all. 

O  I  am  glad  that  I  may  ever  live, 

Where  many  spirits,  in  the  neighboring  space, 

Pass  my  weak  thought  along  from  point  to  point, 

And  speed  its  travels  to  the  unseen  (lod  ! — 

May  linger  in  the  midst  of  this  abounding  life, 

Which  crowds  the  sky  up  to  its  noblest  arch, 

And  bids  it  call  upon  the  watchful  stars 

To  closer  stand,  and  cross  their  upright  spears, 

Lest  something  should  escape  their  care. 

TINTA.     O  Ardo,  as  thou  spokest  of  those  souls 

So  far  from  God,  because  they  are  alone, 

It  seemed  as  though  some  smallest  stalk  of  fear, 

Long  withered  in  the  heart,  had  suddenly 

Shot  forth  a  shivering,  black  flower,  that  cast 

A  shadow  on  its  open  fount  of  peace. 

O  let  me  lay  my  head  upon  thy  breast 

That  I  may  not  forget  thee  for  the  length 

Of  one  brief  moment  !     Now  I  feel  secure, 

And  can  again  commune  unfrighted  with  thee. 

\\  hen  from  this  dear  and  sovereign  seat  of  vision, 
All  visible  things  seem  subject  to  my  sight, 


AN  IDYl.   tf/    7V/ A'  .S77T.  '21 

I  am  not  chiefly  glad  that  1  can  look 
So  far  away  through  this  transparent  air, 
And  'cross  these  shimmering  fields  of  rainbow-harvests, 
Where  flowers  seem  only  as  expanded  gems 
With  stems  of  lengthened  pearl :  that  lean  see 
Unto  the  farthest  verge  of  this  sphere  opulent. 
Whereon,  mayhap,  some  busy  sister  stands 
And  dips  her  ever  dripping  cup  of  flexile  gold 
Into  the  nearest  spring,  to  quench  the  thirst 
Of  some  exhausted  pilgrim  from  a  world 
Whose  founts  are  slowly  failing ;   nor,  in  sooth, 
That  my  strong  sight  flies  on  beyond  all  spheres 
Like  tfiis,  to  where  a  world  lies  spread- 
As  I  may  guess  by  those  broad,  wondrous  rays 
Which  match  the  mountain  peaks  upon  our  own- 
So  bright,  so  limitless,  that  all  these  orbs 
Which  form  our  luminous  community, 
Are  but  dim  tapers  at  her  massive  gates  ; 
Nor  is  this  sight  most  dear,  that  it  will  go 
Down  and  still  down — so  far,  the  falling  stars 
Have  never  reached  the  place — and  dimly  trace 
The  shadowy  boundaries  of  those  orbless  souls, 
Whose  being  is  so  large,  so  unrestrained, 
That  their  least  deed  is  vaster  than  our  sun, 
And  no  world  yet  is  builded  strong  enough 
To  bear  the  beating  of  their  strenuous  hearts, 
Or  broad  enough  to  make  a  worthy  stage 
For  their  exploits  :   but  mostly  give  I  praise, 


22  A  A'  IDYL  OF  Till'.  .SY'A'. 

That,  whether  thy  heart  turns  in  my  love's  bree/es, 

Or  the  pure  juices  of  my  sun-life's  passion 

Fall  in  the  chalice  of  thy  waiting  wish, 

Or  miss  it,  I  do  see  and  know  the  truth. 

And  if  thy  spirit  dons  its  shield  of  reverent  awe, 

And  turneth  inward  to  the  seven  Powers 

That  lie,  concentric,  round  the  fiery  globe 

\\  herein  our  nameless  and  invisible  King 

I  hvells  in  his  long  creative  loneliness, 

I  know,  and  cease  to  babble  of  the  things 

Which  make  the  gladness  of  our  outward  life. 

ARDO.     Wondrous  clairvoyancy  of  woman's  love  ' 

And  chief  of  wonders,  that  such  regal  gift 

Should  be  indentured  to  a  single  heart, 

And  that  heart  mine  !     Oh,  my  clear  eyes, 

That  seemed  up-rounded  on  the  earth,  to  let 

The  fairest  things  slip  off  them  unobserved, 

And  now  impression  of  supernal  lives 

Take  from  all  sides  ! — though  they  may  plainly  see 

How  Heat  and  Light  are  wedded  in  one  ray, 

To  be  the  sun's  resplendent  almoners  ; 

May  see  the  indraft  of  that  unillumined  dust — 

Attrition's  tribute  from  those  ravaged  worlds 

Where  that  fair  twain  has  been  again  divorced-- 

Though  I  may  look  far  through  our  several  plains 

Of  life  down  to  that  glowing,  central  sphere 

Which  is  our  sovereign's  home,  and  see  thereon 

Bright  flashes  of  imperfect  images, 


.•LV  //;  Yf.   Of-    THE  SUN.  23 

I''irc  hints  and  burning,  fleeting  flush  of  shades — 

As  if  the  god  within,  had,  in  a  careless  hour, 

Thought  fitfully  of  himself,  and  jeopardized 

The  awful  secret  of  his  shrouded  life — 

Vet  how  thy  love  is  interblent  with  mine, — 

That  see  L  not.     The  mystic  tie  was  wrought 

Fre  light  was  given  to  this  shuttle  heart, 

Or  by  the  artificer's  shading  hand 

Was  cunningly  concealed.      I5ut  if  to-day 

Thy  love  hath  such  a  power,  what  will  it  be 

When  it  may  work  in  all  the  seven  hues? 

Now,  as  1  speak,  thy  loving  thought  doth  print 

L'pon  the  subtle  substance  of  this  air — 

So  sensitive  to  lovers — all  the  host 

Of  upstored  graces  fully  perfected, 

And  filmy  marvels  of  inceptive  art  ; 

So  that  I  seem  the  only  citi/en 

<  )f  Love's  etherial,  blissful  capital, 

Built  by  benignant  spell  upon  the  peaks 

( )f  highest  moments  buoyed  aloft  by  joy  ; 

Hut  lest  1  lose  my  way  in  those  bright  streets, 

I  )o  thou  unmake  them  by  a  gentle  thought 

Alien  to  ARDO.     Wherefore  tell  me  now, 

What  thou  wilt  do  the  rest  of  this  long  day 

To  further  train  thy  finely-working  hand? 

TINTA.      First,  will  I  take  a  stealthy,  potent  charm 

I'nto  a  heart  upon  the  earth  unloved, 

That  it  shall  so  bewilder,  daze  and  draw 


24 


Some  random  love-prospector,  haply  near, 

That  he  shall  sec  the  Hitting,  coaxing  shapes 

Which  I  commingle  with  its  diamond  deeps. 

And,  after.  I  will  let  selected   rays 

Pass  freely  through  my  open,  love-clear  heart, 

And  with  accretion  of  resistless  fire, 

Burn  into  nothingness  the  barriers 

Between  attracted  souls.     And  what  wilt  thou  ? 

ARDO.      1  will  instruct  I  >esire  to  circle  round  thy  head, 

To  take  his  course  from  thine  own  gentle  thought, 

And  wing  an  even  flight  with  its  white  plumes  ; 

And  I  will  strive  to-day  and  every  day, 

To  so  discumber  mine  own  heavy  life 

Of  every  stain  of  guilt  or  selfish  thought, 

And  so  assist  my  brothers  at  like  work, 

That  this  light-loaded  orb  may  lightly  vault 

Into  a  higher  place,  and  joyously 

Kxpand,  unhindered,  to  a  nobler  curve, 

And  make  more  room  for  seraphs  ;  constantly 

Will  1  look  through  the  armories  of  the  sun, 

Confer  with  foremost  brethren,  closely  search 

Our  luminous  archives'  every  crowded  leaf, 

And  down  into  the  dimmest  places  of  the  heart 

I'rge  on  the  quest  —  study  the  faintest  signs  : 

Yea,  I  will  even  waken  Prophecy  ! 

To  learn  the  secret  of  a  larger  ray, 

By  which  our  gifts  might  grow  to  greater  si/c. 

TINTA.     Then,  husband,  we  will  ever  join  our  hands 


AN  IDYL   QF  THE  SUA'. 

To  fashion  every  gift  ;  thou  shalt  bestow 

Its  central  core  and  amplitude  of  form, 

And  I  will  borrow  of  my  purest  joy, 

To  add  the  outward  beauty.      Hut,  awhile, 

Let  us  still  tarry  here  ;   soon,  very  soon, 

The  double  yolk  of  this  seclusion's  shell 

Shall  alter  to  the  broad,  unresting  wings 

Of  common  life  ;   and  while  1  keep  my  head 

A  little  longer  on  this  breast  still  mine, 

Tell  me  the  story  thou  hast  promised  oft 

To  tell  me  when  my  heart  was  well  prepared. 

Anno.     As  thou  desirest  ;  listen  :      1-ong  years  ago, 

liefore  the  oldest  ministrant  now  here 

Had  his  bright  birth  upon  some  distant  world, 

'Tis  said  a  splendid  apparition  streamed 

Into  our  lightning-vaporous  atmosphere, 

Still  shining  with  puisant  light  undimmed 

When  very  near.      It  was  a  spirit  born 

( )n  that  far  orb  incontinent  of  light, 

Whose  fullness  overflows  in  circling  bands 

( )f  flaming  energy,  which  make  it  seem 

A  prison-star  built  round  with  walls  of  fire. 

His  name  was  Yivero — for  it  is  still  preserved 

Ilehind  the  prison  bars  of  whitest  lips 

Whose  whispered  utterance  seems  its  very  ghost — 

And  as  he  clove  his  way  with  slow,  spent  wings 

And  face  that  reeked  with  toil  of  his  long  flight — 

Twas  but  a  passing,  starry  mist  upon  it — 


•><.;  J.Y  IDYl.   Or  THE  SL'.\. 

The  startled  watchers  from  their  airy  heights 
Forgot  their  office,  could  but  ga/e  in  awe, 
As  did  the  whole  sun  people  silently. 
No  being  of  such  mien,  none  clad  as  he, 
Had  ever  come  before  unto  the  sun  : 
His  stature  equalled  easily  the  height 
Of  that  strange  pillar  of  translucent  gold 
Some  earlier  race  did  build  upon  our  sphere, 
Which  we  have  seen  at  sunrise  from  the  earth  ; 
His  wings  spread  out  like  islands  of  the  sea, 
Pulsed  by  the  sea  into  a  crimson  flush  ; 
No  shadow-moth  had  ever  found  a  perch 
Upon  his  radiant  face,  which  blinding  shone, 
As  if  the  light,  o'erflowing  from  the  eyes, 
Suffused  it  with  a  glamor  of  the  grace 
Which  we  are  taught  to  gather  in  the  soul 
For  inner  vision  ;  downward  from  the  chin, 
The  mighty  veins  of  his  unhindered  neck 
Were  sluices  round  of  lightning-driven  fire  ; 
And  all  the  vast  recumbence  of  his  form 
Seemed  like  a  valley  plucked  from  paradise, 
With  all  its  mighty,  silver  tentacles 
Still  clinging  to  its  undismembered  mass. 
And  million-tinted  herbage  undisturbed. 

As  near  he  came  the  poison-stricken  air, 
Which  till  that  day  had  been  a  moteless  sheen, 
Writhed  with  convulsions  of  a  mother's  pangs, 
Brought  forth  from  quick  gestations  unperceived 


AN  ID  17.   O/'    THE  SUJ\'. 

Her  mistimed,  unimaginecl  progeny  ; 
And  storms  did  ravage  all  the  solar  world, 
Tearing  away  from  its  immortal  mines, 
And  from  its  altar-flames  and  subtle  flowers, 
And  from  the  fares  of  the  seraph  saints, 
A  drift  of  shining  dust,  which  floated  long 
Above  the  land. 

And  when  the  sun's  first  floor 
Mended  beneath  that  alien  angel's  foot, 
A  faintness  fell  upon  its  countless  founts, — 
A  dimness  on  its  ever-living  lights. 
( )nr  provinces  upon  the  distant  earth 
And  other  planetary  worlds  adjoined — 
Which  now,  with  broad  bands  centrally  enclasped, 
Showeth  their  easy  bondage— by  degrees, 
Surrendered  their  vast  territories 
Unto  the  white  autochthons  of  the  poles — 
Kver  in  wait  to  sei/e  their  ancient  lands— 
Because  their  far  and  shining  capital 
Suffered  a  strange  oppression,  felt  the  first 
Abasement  of  an  evil  spirit's  light. 

Gracious  and  kind  were  Yivero's  salutes  ; 
Our  people  soon  were  cheated  of  their  fears, 
And  did  admit  him  to  their  sacred  rites 
And  simple  fellowship,  if  that  be  such, 
Where  Truth  doth  burn  her  veil  and  Krror  wears 
Its  ravished  wraith. 

Infected  time  passed  on  : 


28  AA'  FDYI.   OF  Till:   SUN. 

The  lofty  Vivero  had,  one  by  one, 

Acquired  the  use  of  all  the  seven  Powers, 

And  bore  the  circling  emblem  on  his  arm. 

Proudly,  but  vaguely,  spoke  he  of  the  past, 

( )f  Titan  strifes  and  angel  heroisms  : 

But  from  the  fatal  fabric  of  his  speech, 

His  spell-instructed  listeners  ever  built 

Visions  of  stars  despoiled  and  temples  sacked, 

Of  shadowy  forms  dislimbed  and  spheres  unrolled 

In  plains  of  even,  uninspired  light. 

To  break  the  weak  delusion  that  a  (lod 

Lived  in  their  secret  cores.      P>ut,  day  by  day, 

I  )id  Yivero's  heaven-challenging  desire 

Draw  him  still  inward  towards  the  (lawless  home 

( )f  our  benignant  Lord  :   until,  at  last, 

He  passed  beyond  the  farthest  boundary 

Of  reverent  life,  and  stood  unharmed  and  proud 

Within  the  regions  of  bold  Wasphemy. 

liehiml,  the  horror  of  the  watching  hosts 

Closed  like  a  parted  wave  :  before  him  shone 

The  star  of  stars  unchanged  :   onward  he  went, 

I'ntil  tire  lengthened  silence,  which  is  night 

Upon  the  sun,  began  :   but  still  advanced 

That  strong  adventurer.     The  new  day  came, 

P.ut  slow  and  feebly,  as  'twere  stricken  old, 

And  could  not  bear  the  daring  enterprise 

Devolved  upon  it  ;   low  the  waters  sank 

In  all  the  springs  ;   the  currents  of  the  streams 


AN  IDYT.   OF  THE  SUN. 

Ceased  flowing,  and  the  soulful  flowers  strewn 
I  pon  their  banks,  down  to  the  water's  edge 
Drooped  plaintively  :  and  all  the  sun  race  moved 
'With  languid  steps  and  sad  abased  head, 
As  though  their  strength  was  gone,  and  hope  beside. 
Still  watching  towards  the  close  of  that  wan  day 
\Yith  desecrated  eyes  and  stilled  hearts, 
They  saw  that  arch-intruder  pause,  and  turn 
( >ne  moment  towards  them  with  a  scornful  smile. 
Then  spread  his  glorious  wings  and  raise  his  hands 
That  were  enfeoffed  with  sinful  sovereignty, 
And,  like  a  winged  avalanche  in  air, 
Hurl  himself  straight  upon  the  awful  goal. 
( )h  !   then  as  if  to  spare  the  o'erstrained  sight, 
A  wonder  happened  for  that  ga/ing  host  ; 
For  scarcely  had  the  impious  Vivero 
Chosen  his  course,  and  fixed  his  forceful  aim. — 
When  lo  !  he  vanished  like  the  thinnest  flake 
( )f  tenuous  snow  upon  a  sea  of  fire. 

Long  days  they  watched  in  vain  for  any  sign  ; 
They  knew  not  whether  he  did  reach  and  pierce 
The  glowing  cover  of  that  orbic  shrine, 
Or  had  been  quenched  forever  from  the  world. 

( )ne  morn,  when  Music's  circuit  was  again 
Complete,  and  truant  Peace  once  more  restrained 
Within  the  magic  line,  they  saw  on  high, 
Above  their  rescued  world,  a  small,  dark  cloud, 
A  thing  not  seen  before  in  solar  skies  ; 


3d  AN  7/n'L   OF  THE  SUN. 

And  as  it  floated  o'er  their  radiant  heads. 

There  shone  upon  it  seven  blended  rings 

Of  sacred  colors,  of  such  wondrous  si/e, 

They  knew  they  were  the  same  that  Yivero 

Had  worn  upon  his  arm.     They  watched  the  cloix 

Fall  slowly  down  into  the  nether  deeps, 

Bearing  that  pure,  immortal  emblem  still 

I'pon  its  folds,  until  it  sank  entombed 

Into  that  darkened  world  we  called  the  moon, 

When  we  surveyed  it  from  the  earth  ;   and  still 

That  fadeless  circlet  may  be  often  seen 

Coiled  round  that  starry  grave  in  largest  woe 

Or,  shredless,  groping  in  the  wastes  of  storms. 

TIN  i  A.     ()  'tis  a  wondrous  tale  1      What  other  orb 

Hath  such  a  history  that  its  excess. 

Which  liveth  only  in  remembered  speech, 

Holds  stories  such  as  this?      Poor  Yivero  1 

Were  it  no  wrong  to  our  beloved  Lord. 

How  I  could  pity  thee  !      Hut  gods  are  stern 

To  guilt  of  arrogance  :   and  they  forgive 

Their  erring  people  any  fault  but  this. 

Tell  me,  dear  teacher,  shall  we  ever  sec 
That  being  we  adore  ? — I  mean  not  here, 
Nor  soon,  but  shall  we  ercr  see  our  Lord  ? 
In  some  far  time,  and  from  some  distant  sphere, 
If  that  inviolate  veil  were  drawn  away, 
Should  we  dare  look,  with  furtive,  timid  eyes, 
Downward  upon  him  ? 


A  A'  IDYL   OF  THE  SUN.  Jl 

ARDO.  Nay,  a  nearer  place 

Crave  T  for  thee  and  me  !     He  reverent, 
l>ut  fear  thou  not,  nor  overstretch  thine  awe; 
Kor  1  believe  that  onr  great  Sovereign's  shield 
I  )oth  slowly  waste  between  the  crossing  heat 
Of  his  own  central  and  our  outward  zeal  ; 
That  it  doth  furnish  stuff  for  our  good  deeds, 
And  when  all  good  is  done,  will  fade  away 
And  leave  revealed  the  perfect  one  within, 
\\'ho  henceforth  shall  remain  as  one  of  us. 

Hut  now,  refreshed,  we  must  once  more  to  work  ; — 
Put  on  thy  sandals  of  embalmed  flame  ; 
Hind  up  again  the  loosened  amber  filaments 
Of  thine  abundant  hair,  lest  thou  appear 
Too  glorious  amongst  thine  elder  sisters  : 
Let  go  the  hidden  rudder  of  thine  eyes, 
Which  makes  them  ever  keep  their  course  towards  me  ; 
And  I  will  pluck  Love's  pharos  from  mine  own, 
Which  thou  art  sailing  by.     And  now  those  eyes 
Too  long  reduced  to  visions  of  one  soul, 
Again  must  gauge  themselves  to  multitudes  ; 
And  from  the  verges  of  dispersion's  deeps, 
Strain  after  gods.      Now  take  my  hand  and  come  ; 
We  will  away  to  my  most  precious  spring, 
And  thou  shalt  drink  one  draught  from  mine  own  hand, 
And  there  together  will  we,  singing,  mix 
Such  potent  liquor  for  the  earth's  dry  cup, 
That  none  shall  be  there  more  athirst  for  joy, 
And  all  be  thence  informed  of  our  sweet  love. 


'HH    COMMON    MAN. 


Behold  !    he  daily  does  the  world's  wide  will. 
Makes  what  is  good,  and  masters  what  is  ill  ; 
Lives  not  oblivious  of  earth's  blessed  ways, 
Nor  clogs  his  progress  with  disordered  days. 

His  strength  is  as  the  braces  of  the  sky, 
And  as  the  salt  sea's  breath  his  bravery  ; 
His  own  worth  knows  he  and  its  true  intents. 
Although  he  counts  not  its  constituents. 

His  arms  are  round  and  full  with  deeds  unwrought, 
His  shoulders  mighty  and  abased  by  nought  ; 
For  they  can  bear,  nor  press  upon  the  heart, 
What  cowards  cast  there  with  eluding  art. 

Justice  and  mercy  do  in  him  concur  ; 

His  truth  is  as  the  .day's  diameter  : 

And  Peace  between  his  eyes  doth  have  her  seat, 

Like  to  a  queen  between  two  handmaids  sweet. 

What  man  has  ever  done  he  doeth  now — 
He  it  to  forge,  to  build,  to  sow  or  plow- 
Ami  round  the  forefront  of  his  last  act  shine 
The  cumulate  beauties  of  the  long  design. 


THE  COMMON  MAN. 

Not  in  the  new  alone  doth  beauty  sleep, 
For  olden  things  a  higher  import  keep  ; 
That  stream  is  purest  which  doth  longest  flow, 
And  what  is  best  will  aye  the  farthest  go. 

The  common  man  is  slow,  sees  not  afar  ; 
Must  keep  his  eyes  where'er  his  full  hands  are  ; 
Enjoys  the  common  hues  of  near-by  things  ; 
Stops  at  the  blue  of  mystic  quiverings. 

His  goals  are  near,  and  one  the  sun  each  day 
Drops  warm  with  life  and  not  too  far  away  ; 
But  ere  the  night  he  grasps  the  bauble  sweet, 
And  its  sun-warmth  is  blent  with  his  heart's  heat. 

Yet  not  the  slave  of  despot  day  is  he, 

Hut  the  free  servant  of  the  Century  ; 

And  though  she  wears  her  veil  upon  her  face, 

He  sometimes  feels  her  hand's  imperial  grace. 

He  sees  the  measure  of  his  lasting  might 
In  every  work  his  hand  concludes  aright  ; 
And  each  result  his  widening  spirit  frees  ; — 
The  houses  he  has  built  hold  but  his  families. 

His  lips  have  simple  songs,  while  Music's  art 
1  )oth  only  still  the  groves  about  his  heart ; 
That  when  her  chosen  chantress  sings,  at  last, 
No  rival  songs  shall  'gainst  that  strain  be  cast. 


:H  THE  COMMON  MAX. 

Not  from  rare  moments'  tenuous  chalices, 
Flame-filled  and  flashing  with  infinities, 
But  from  a  common  cup  of  cumbrous  clay 
Drinks  he  the  lasting  joys  of  his  long  day. 

No  fairies  light  upon  his  steps  attend, 

But  giant,  heavy-handed  forms,  that  bend 

And  pour  for  him  thick  liquids,  amber-clear, 

Slow  drip  of  sweets  long  stored  from  some  dream  year. 

Yet  there  is  set  within  his  heavy  frame 

A  secret  truth  which  hath  on  earth  no  name  ; 

And  though  his  lips  shall  speak  wise  things  and  true, 

His  words  have  one  side  dark  and  give  no  clew. 

He  is  the  keeper  of  all  permanencies  ; 

On  his  acceptance  wait  discoveries  ; — 

Though  one  should  force  a  gift  from  Heaven's  height, 

The  common  man  alone  can  keep  it  bright. 

He  has  long  leisure,  yet  he  wastes  no  lime  ; 
He  waxes  old,  but  still  enjoys  his  prime  ; 
And  what  another  in  despair  has  sought, 
He  finds,  at  last,  without  one  troublous  thought. 

Behold  !   he  daily  does  the  world's  wide  will  ; 
Makes  what  is  good,  and  masters  what  is  ill  ; 
And  when  the  race  has  reached  its  earthly  span, 
The  common  shall  appear  the  perfect  man. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  GRAVES. 


There  never  was  heart  of  a  man, 

But  a  song  in  it  longed  to  be  sung  ; 
Nor  ever  a  brain  that  began, 

Hut  a  glimmer  of  truth  was  there  flung. 
()  woe,  to  the  lips  that  were  mute  ! 

( )  woe,  for  the  false  words  said  ! 
For  with  naught  but  the  grave  for  a  lute 

True  song  must  now  come  from  the  dead. 

U  come  to  this  new-made  grave, 

And  (|tiicken  its  great,  dull  strings  ; 
That  the  rigid  lips  which  the  death-peace  crave 

May  loosen  the  music  that  clings. 
O  call  to  the  wind  and  the  rain  ! 

O  call  to  the  heat  or  the  frost  ! 
To  gather  the  whispers  of  pain, 

Lest  the  song  of  the  dead  should  be  lost. 


THE  CHRISTMAS    TABLE. 


Now  bring  the  ample  table  out, 
And  have  the  cloth  well  laid  ; 
And  load  the  board,  if  so  thou  canst, 
With  what  thyself  hast  made  ; 
That  every  guest 
Shall  find  the  best 
For  which  his  heart  has  prayed. 

Then  set  thou,  at  the  table's  head, 

A  chair  of  sable  state  ; 
And  let  each  one,  with  reverence  say 
"Come  Christ,  here  is  no  hate  :" 
And  the  Denied, 
The  Crucified, 
Shall  leave  His  cross,  though  late. 

Hut  set  thou,  at  the  table's  foot, 

A  chair  of  equal  grace  ; 
That  the  new  Christ  of  perfect  life 
May  see,  with  shining  face  ; 
See,  from  some  height, 
Its  spotless  white, 
And  come  and  take  his  place. 


THH  TWO  D1SCOVHRIHS, 


'Twas  with  such  eyes 

As  every  mortal  hath, 
When  clear  surprise 

Lightens  the  path, 
That  she  beheld 

His  spirit  rise  : — 
That  she  did  see 

Its  august  si/.e 
Matching  nobility, 

'Twas  only  as 
The  others  saw 

The  man  he  was, 
That  she,  with  awe, 

Beheld  Love  pass. 

II 
'Twas  with  the  sight 

The  few  possess 
Who  see  the  right, 

Who  know  to  bless  ; 
That  she  beheld, 


THE   TWO  DISCOVERIES. 

After  the  glory  waned, 
The  glory  still  :— 

That  there  remained, 
After  the  thrill, 

The  conscious  heart 
To  know  and  claim, 

From  his  great  deed  apart, 
The  man  in  shame. 
'Twas  not  what  others  see 

That  now  she  saw, — 
Splendor  and  majesty, 

Tilings  without  flaw  ; 
Hut,  with  a  finer  sight 

Than  takes  the  swift  delight, 
When  in  full  view, 

Grand  Love  goes  by  ; 
She  subtly  knew 

Plain  Love  who  waited  nigh. 


THfc  VALKYKIbS. 


Directors  of  the  launched  death  ! 

Receivers  of  the  latest  breath  ! 
How  did  ye  choose  the  guests  for  (  Klin's  hall  ? 
( )n  whom  were  your  first  favors  wont  to  fall  ? 

Who'er  it  be  that  answereth, 
Say  why  ye  chose  a  king  and  why  his  thrall. 

I  -oved  ye  the  most  who  slew  the  most  ? 

Was  that  fierce  one  your  chosen  ghost, 
Whose  battle  axe  always  the  deepest  went ; — 
Whose  bloody  spear  was  aye  the  farthest  sent  ? 

Who,  being  dead,  still  made  his  boast, 
And  cheered  tfie  weary  flight  with  fury  yet  unspent? 

Had  ye  no  thought  for  him  whose  blade 
Shone  like  a  thing  that  hath  no  shade, 
And  firmer  temper  took  at  every  blow, 
From  subtle  currents  which  therewith  did  flow  ; 

And  not  alone  the  hand  obeyed, 
Hut  struck  most  righteously,  the  guilty  foe? 

And  spared  ye  any  in  that  time 
Of  brutal  deed,  of  blood  and  grime, 


40  THE   VALKYRIES. 

For  that  they  were  beloved  by  ladies  fair, 

And  sent  sweet  songs  across  the  trumpet's  blare  ? 

Nay  '  seemed  it  not  a  crime, 
To  hinder  those  whose  loves  were  all  their  care  ? 

How  choose  ye  now  your  sacred  dead  ? — 
Where  once  was  war  is  peace  instead. 
Have  your  own  hearts  not  gathered  newer  clews, 
Seeing  how  earthly  maids  the  living  choose? 

Are  not  your  white  lips  turned  more  red? 
Have  not  your  eyes  been  purged  with  sweeter  views? 

Yea  !  hath  not  Odin,  your  great  Sire, 

Been  tutored  to  a  new  desire? 
Hath  not  some  signal  from  a  human  hand 
Startled  the  warders  of  that  ghostly  land. 

That  now  a  new  and  softer  fire 
They  burn,  with  reverence,  all  along  the  strand? 


THE    DEAD    DAY. 

I  made  a  tryst  with  a  coming  day  ; 
A  day  yet  far  away  ; 

And  I  said  : 
"I  will  meet  thee,  ()  day,  on  the  hills  ' 

When  thy  glory  the  east  overfills. 
Let  thy  sisters  before  thee  regret  ! 

And  thy  sisters  behind  thee  despair  ! 
For  I'll  bring  thee  a  joy  which  the  world  cannot  fret ; 
I  will  show  thee  the  worth  which  the  heavens  declare  ; 
A  perfect  heart  will  I  bear." 

But  the  red  of  her  coming  turned  gray  ; 
For  I  was  far  away  ; 
And  she  said  : 
"Let  me  die  with  the  longing  that  kills  ; 

Which  through  the  dead  heart  ever  thrills  !" 
Then  upon  the  low  bier  was  she  set, 

And  borne  through  the  shivering  air, 
l>y  her  maidens  all  darksome  and  wet ; 
While  wails  of  defeat  were  still  echoing  there, 
And  a  broken  heart  was  in  prayer. 


THE  LAGGARD. 


So  swift  passed   by  him   the   people,  so   seldom   looked 

they  around, 
They  saw  not  the  face  of  the  laggard,  whose   feet  on  the 

covetous  ground 
Found  rest  and  a  lingering   lightness    and   delight  as  of 

lasting  good, 
And  slower  and  slower   proceeded   until  it  seemed  that 

he  stood. 
Hut  hurried    the  many    onward    in  broken    masses    and 

groups, 
And    the   hollows    and   empty    spaces   of  their   frenzy  s 

serpent-loops 
Seemed  spectral   hearts  of  excitement  with   their  fever 

and  force  pulsed  out  : 
Their  birth  the  death  of  a  moment,  their  death  the  birth 

of  a  shout. 

At  ease    the  loiterer   followed,    untouched   by  the  strug 
gling  throng, 
For   multitudes   feel    a    repulsion    from   souls   that   are 

silent  and  strong  ; 
And  nothing  is  half  so  defended  as  the  simple  peace  of 

the  heart, 


THE  LAGGARD.  r      43 

Since  tumult  can  never  adventure  save  where  it  already 

is  part. 
He  moved  in  the  lull  of  their  strivings,  in   the   realms 

of  relapse  and  spent  breath, 
Where  the  forces  wasted  of  mortals  return  again  unto 

death  ; 
And  his  progress  was    that    of  a    planet   with    a   new 

immortal  light, 
Which  sails  with  a  steadfast   glory  through   the  wrecks 

of  a  stellar  night. 

Attrition  ravaged  their  faces  and  only  as  shifting  sands 
Were  the   changes    ever    upon   them — Confusion  alone 

commands  ; 
But  his  had   the  glow  of  creation,   and  its  motions  all 

were  combined 
To  picture  the  single  endeavor  of  the  sovereign,  single 

mind  ; 

And  every  angel  of  beauty  some  gift  on  that  face  did  lay, 
For  up  from   his  heart  no  demon   ever  rose   to  drive 

it  away. 
Their    hope    was     a    self-shivered    mirror,     each    piece 

showed  a  different  face  ; 
While  his  was    a  casket    made  ready    for  the    gem   that 

awaited  its  place. 
The  bows  of  their  hearts,  like  to   galleys,  were  beaked 

for  the  struggles  of  hate. 
And  sundered   and  sank  each   pleasure   before  they  had 

taken  its  freight ; 


44  THE  LAGGARD. 

His  heart  was  a  delicate  life-boat  with   a  roseate  sail 

unfurled, 
And  saving  one  joy   undiminished   it  sailed   the   whole 

of  the  world. 
Their  desire  was  a   passionate  craving  to  feel  all  the 

forces  that  are, 
So  long  as  was  left  on  their  spirits  one  spot  for  sensation 

to  scar  ; 
While  to  fathom   the   single   impression   and   its  subtle 

folds  unwind, 
Was  enough  for  his   truer  longing,  enough    for  his  single 

mind  ; 
For  he  knew  that   his  spacious  being,  unloosed  to   its 

farthest  curve, 
Lacked  room  for  that  one  revelation,  though  he  held  it 

all  in  reserve. 
The  future  to  them  was  a  straight   thread  spun  from  the 

mists  of  the  past, 
Which,  miserly,  marked  out  before  them  the  way  which 

they  traveled  so  fast  ; 
And  the  present  had  no  existence,  or  seemed,  past  any 

dispute, 
But  the   little    line   that   lapses   'tween    the   raised   and 

lowered  foot  ; 
While  time  to  the  leal-hearted  laggard  had  no  dispersion 

of  soul, 
Could   only,   starlike,  around   him    its  widening    circles 

roll; 


THE  LAGGARD.  46 

And  the  growing  plane  of  its  orbit  was  the  present  unto 

him, 
Where   life   in  a   lustrous   glory  stretched   calmly   away 

to  its  rim. 

But  the  running  line  of  their  hasting,  like  the  chain  in 

the  deep,  cool  well, 
At    last  drew   speech    from   the    silence  wherein   such 

spirits  dwell ; 
And  turning  about  to  the  nearest  he  showed  them  the 

peace  of  his  face, 
And  by  the  power  of  his  purpose  checked  the  speed  of 

their  fevered  pace. 
Then  suddenly  ended  their  ravings,  with  the  shock  of  a 

sharp  surprise, 
As  a  storm  might  halt   in  its  fury  with  quick  reverence 

in  its  eyes, 
If  right  in  its  path  there  shimmered,  with  no  watchmen 

stationed  around, 
A  colony  of  glorious   angels  just  arrived   to  inhabit  the 

ground. 
And  these  are  the  words  he  uttered  unto  such  as  lingered 

anear, 
Amazed   and   afraid  and   attracted    and    half  unwilling 

to  hear. 
"Why  haste  ye  on  Change's  worn  pinions  to  the  eyry 

of  lusting  and  madness  ? 
Why  float  in  the  storm-winds  of  laughter  to  the  dreary 

expanses  of  sadness  ? 


4G  THE  LAGGARD. 

Do  ye  have  the  deep  heavens  for  your  hasting,  as   the 

birds  in  their  joyous  projection? 
Are  the  white  doves   of  Heaven  abandoned,  with  their 

burdens  of  mystic  reflection, 
To  the  clutch  of  the  hawk  or  the  falcon   or  some  other 

felonious  capture, 
While  the   heart  that  is  looking  and  longing  shall  miss  of 

its  infinite  rapture  ? 
Can  the  racers  of  commonest  craving  run  as  fast  as  the 

coursers  etherial 
Which  the  heart  sends  afar  in  its  calmness,  and  guideth 

with  reins  immaterial? 
Ye  but  follow   false   birds  of  illusion   from   the   nests   of 

your  own  living  treasures  ; 
And  ye  gather  from  falsehood's  beguilement  that  which 

falsehood's  memory  measures. 
Ye  are  following  vanishing  pictures  and  dancing  shadows 

and  splendors 
By  a  mock   sun   scornfully   scattered,  when  the   spirit, 

unwitting,  surrenders 
Both  the  earth  and  the  sky  of  its  being,  where  the  forces 

creative  are  hidden  ; 
And  the  thing   ye  might  form   into  beauty,  unto  hideous 

shapes  shall  be  bidden. 
Like   as   golden   wheels  ye   are   whirling   o'er   highways 

pointed  by  passion, 
And  the  mud-drops  ever  thrown  forward  seem  to  you  of 

an  exquisite  fashion  ; — 


THE  LAGGARDr  47 

Were  they  drops  from  the  car  of  old  Neptune   ere  the 

waters  of  ocean  were  bitter, 
Or  a  shower  from  a  cloudlet  begotten  whore   the  mists 

with  divinity  glitter, 
Ye  could  not   more   eager  pursue   them  or  struggle   the 

harder  to  catch  them  ; 
And  the  things  that  with  them  are  mingled  to  illumine 

and  visibly  match  them, 
Arc  the   floating  sparkles  and  relics  of  your  thought's 

first  pure  creations, 
Comminuted    and    mangled    in    folly  and    left    for    the 

laughter  of  nations. 
But  what  is  the  gain  of  your  hasting? — all   your  craving 

and  envious  malice? 
Doth  not  violence  spill  without  scruple  the  sweets  of  the 

spiritual  chalice? 
Vet  ally  yourselves  with  the  whirlwind,  let  riot  fecundate 

the  spirit, 
And  the  thing  that  is  brought  forth  in  frenzy,  though  ye 

shuddering  strive  not  to  rear  it, 
Shall  for  ages  ravage  your  beings,  uprooting  and  smiting 

and  rending, 
Until   there  is  left  a  mere  desert,  and    death   or  dark 

horror  impending. 
But  if  what  ye  are  seeking  is  precious,  and   it  seemeth 

dearer  and  dearer, 
Will   the    smoked    glass    succor    your   vision?  or   your 

breath  on  the  pane  make  it  clearer  ? 


48  THE  LAGGARD. 

Have    ye    fear    that  some    others    should    gather   your 

delights  ere  your  hearts  have  possessed  them? 
Then,  in  truth,   were   they    yours  by   their  nature,  from 

the  demons  themselves  ye  could  wrest  them  ! 
( )h  !  unseemly  these  struggles  and  racings,  when  to  love 

is  the  whole  that  is  needed  ; 
Since  the  heart  knows  to  carry  you  farther  than  the  feet 

of  man  e'er  proceeded. 
Doth  befit  your  false  fury  a  being,  who  hath  through  the 

empyrean  whitened, 
And  o'erflown  the  sun   in  his  splendor  nor  endured  that 

his  garments  were  brightened  ? 
Who  hath  dared  to  the  hazardous  borders  of  the  regions 

starless  and  rangeless, 
Where  the  bree/es  so  friendly  to  living  lie  as  dead  at  the 

feet  of  the  Changeless?. 
Fear  ye  now  to  repose  in  the  ether  which  is  still  in  your 

spirits'  recesses, 
And  if  lulled  to  the  stillness  of  Heaven,  with  the  passage 

of  angels  still  blesses? 
Do  ye   fear,  unless  always  it's  flashing,    that   the   heart's 

fiery  lightnings  shall  wither, 
And  when   summoned  to   shatter  some  darkness  be  too 

feeble  to  carry  you  thither? 
Hut,  behold  !   how  the  passionate  patience  of  the  flower 

by  the  roadside  there  growing, 
lu  the  colorless   air  finds  and   fixes   the  shy   sweets  that 

forever  are  flowing  : 


THE  LAGGARD.  4.9 

Let  us  sit  down  there  in  the  coolness  and  surround  it  in 

reverent  wonder  ; 
\Ye  can  love   that   flower   together  and  might   fail  to  so 

love  what  is  yonder  : 
We  shall   hear  if  we  peacefully  listen,  as   they  cordially 

signal  each  other, 
'Cross  the    dreary   spaces   of  clamor,   in   such   tones  as 

nothing  can  smother, 
The  bright  band  of  immaculate  lovers,  with  a  sweet  and 

solemn  insistence, 
Moulding  ever  to  trumpeting  actions  the  clear  metal  of 

perfect  existence. 
And  at  night  shall  we  tent  us  securely  in  the   strength 

which  belongs  to  endurance, 
And  the  light  of  the   undying  spirit   shall  burn   for   the 

pilgrim's  assurance  ; 
And  shall  frighten  the  forces  of  darkness,  while  against 

all  the  tempest's  assailing, 
From  the  heart's  still  recesses  shall  issue  counter-blasts 

of  command  never  failing  ; 
And  soon  shall   the  lover-guest  find  us, — shall  approach 

and  the  sleepers  awaken  ; 
And  the  fear  in  the  heart  still  abiding,  from  its  loosened 

beats  shall  be  shaken. 


THH  TWO  CLAIMANTS. 


T\v<>  spirits  late  were  poised  above  this  land,-- 

Mother  of  Nations,  Spirit  of  the  World  ; 

And  like  a  mist  across  the  heavens'  sheen 

Spread  the  effect  of  counter-working  wills. 

For  not  agreement's  sweet  convergences 

To  some  effulgent  embouchure  in  air, 

Had  brought  these  mighty  beings  face  to  face  ; 

Hut  discord's  hidden  snare  at  crossing  ways. 

A  skyey  winter  grew  about  the  spot, 

And  the  chilled  light  fell  through  the  boreal  air, 

In  ghostly  flakes  which  drifted  round  their  feet. 

And  she,  the  Mother  of  Nations  called,  did  hold 
A  chart  of  States  before  her,  and  across 
The  folding  glory  of  her  vivid  dress — 
Less  ample  than  the  other's  though  it  seemed — 
Flickered  dark  lines  that  made  a  ghastly  web, 
And  seemed  reflections  of  the  shifting  boundaries 
Which  circumscribed  her  daughters'  earthly  realms. 
Her  eyes  also  seemed  weary  with  the  chase 
Of  those  elusive  lines  which  were  as  seams 
Upon  the  mended  vestments  of  the  earth, 
And  when  she  spoke,  the  crystal  waves  of  speech 


THE  TWO  CLAIMANTS.  51 

Seemed  broken  into  many  tinted  arcs 

And  sweet  deceitful  rings,  to  fit  the  ear 

Reserved  for  charm  of  tender  confidence  ; 

But  in  her  full  and  uncurbed  majesty, 

Stood  her  companion  there,  and  her  clear  voice 

Knfolded  worlds  within  its  fluent  curves, 

K'en  as  an  Iris-bow  bent  to  a  circle. 

And,  listening,  I  heard  the  lesser  Power 
First  urge  her  thought  and  thus  proclaim  her  right  : 
"Mine  and  my  children's  still  remains  the  earth  ! 
I  was  here  first  of  all  who  dwell  in  space, 
When  out  from  the  in\  isible  there  rolled 
This  emerald  wonder  !     Is't  as  nought, 
That  1  first  felt  this  whirling  glory  draw 
My  heart  to  unknown  motions  and  to  new  desires  ? — 
That  its  sweet  airs  did  blow  their  first  delights 
Across  my  face?  or  that  my  daring  feet 
First  touched  the  bending  tips  of  its  green  turf? 
Yea  !  gained  I  then  no  new  prerogative — 
No  lasting  grace  that  will  prevail  on  high — 
That  gliding  through  its  groves  and  following 
The  coaxing  current  of  a  tuneful  stream, 
I  first  beheld,  with  unapprenticed  eyes, 
That  riddle  of  the  world-  —that  sweet  surprise 
Of  gods— a  man  ;  did  meet  him  face  to  face, 
And  looked  into  his  eyes — his  human  eyes — 
And  heard  his  first  uncertain  words  of  love 
Unto  a  woman,  greater  mystery?" 


o2  THE    7  U'O   C/.J/M.-IXTS. 

Then  answered  her  the  strong  World  Spirit  thus  : 

"Thy  boasted  right  hath  never  been  denied  ; 

And,  yet,  methinks,  them  hast  asserted  it, 

As  though  that  perfect-sailing  orb  had  been 

A  sinking  wreck,  and  some  swift  aid  of  thine 

Had  gained  a  ceaseless  right  of  salvage  to  it. 

Yet  hath  thy  doubtful  claim  been  e'er  allowed, — 

Opposed  by  none,  though  acquiesence  made 

A  grief  too  large  for  Sorrow's  greatest  gauge. 

What  hast  thou  done  with  this  vast  privilege? 

What,  save  to  weave  thy  web  of  boundaries 

Around  a  world  designed  for  liberty  ? 

Thou  couldst  not  even  see  thy  spheric  prey, 

Except  as  it  did,  curve  by  curve,  revolve 

Across  thy  narrow  sight  :   thou  couldst  but  be 

A  slow  explorer  there,  and,  one  by  one, 

Inscribe  the  parts  upon  thy  needful  chart  ; 

Or  catch  their  outlines  on  thy  sullied  robes 

More  spacious  than  thy  narrow  vision  was. 

And  thou  didst  quickly  drive  lorn  waifs  of  space 

Down   through   the   earth's  clear  air  and    through   dim 

ways 

Of  earthly  generation  to  become 
Thy  misbegotten  offspring,  and  the  bane 
Of  man  enmeshed  for  them  !   What  right  hadst  thou 
To  cut  the  bond  of  human  unity, 
And  put  the  separate  ends  within  their  hands, 
To  tangle  them  with  enmity  ?      Hut  know 


THE  TWO  CLAIMANTS.  53 

Now,  for  I  say  it,  that  thou  hast  done  ill  ! 

Thou  hast  outlived  thy  right  !     'To  me  doth  fall 

Thy  forfeited  estate  !     Go  now,  dismiss 

Thy  children  from  their  places  to  again 

Roam  restless  through  blank  space  as  yet  unstrewn 

With  worlds." 

Now  for  a  long  space  did  I  hear  no  word, 
And  then  the  other  spoke  the  untried  speech 
Of  pain.     "()  States  and  Kmpires  of  the  earth, 
Ye  are  my  children  !  slow-transformed, 
In  the  vast  womb  of  Cydes,  into  shapes 
Which  bear  my  image  ; — ye  are  very  fruits 
Of  my  maternity  !     What  mother  else, 
Hath  reared  in  such  alarms  her  progeny? 
How  in  your  separate  and  remote  abodes 
Have  I  protected,  e'er  unfailingly, 
All  you  my  nurslings  1  how,  from  the  first  hour, 
Have  I  endeavoured  to  tear  wholly  off 
All  taint  of  former  vagrancy  in  space, 
And  train  you  to  the  regions  definite 
Of  solid  and  enduring  happiness  ! 
How  have  1  run  to  shield  you  at  all  times  ! 
When  spiteful  demons  have  made  war  on  you, 
What  side  have  I  left  without  saving  guard  ? 
Though  they  have  mined  the  quiet  earth  and  dropped 
Germs  of  convulsions  there,  to  rend  apart 
Your  rocky  fastnesses  ;  though  they  have  bent 


.-,4  THE    TWO  CLAIMANTS. 

The  mountains  to  a  bow,  to  launch  at  you 
Their  frozen  thunders,  or  have  stamped 
The  soft  air  hard,  to  hurl  wide  furies  down 
I'pon  your  heads  ;  yea,  though  most  impiously 
They  have  unloosed  those  sei/ures  dire  of  strange 
And  dreadful  maladies,  which  spread  'mongst  men 
Destructive  frenzies  : — yet  it  was  my  joy 
To  ever  be  with  you.     But  all  my  flights 
Around  your  cherished  realms,  have  left  no  loops 
Of  living  concord  which  a  hostile  word 
Of  tyrant-spirit  breaks  not  !     Nought  remains, 
But  that  far  fellowship  of  space,  which  seems, 
To  those  who  have  but  played  at  human  love, 
Only  as  solitude.      I  cannot  hold  you  '. 

O  India  who  droopest  so  the  head, 
And  thickenest  the  air  into  a  dusk, 
With  the  dark  fragrance  of  thy  favored  flower, 
For  mid-day  dreams  ;   wake  not  for  my  farewell  ! 
( )  would  that  I  might  join  thee  in  that  sleep 
Which  feeds  alone  upon  sweet  memories, 
And  will  not  pass  at  touch  of  present  grief, 
Though  grief  should  turn  itself  to  burning  suns. 

And  thou  Italia,  who  sitt'st  at  ease 
Upon  the  sun-ward  side  of  thy  vast  ruins, 
And  idly  watchest  swarms  of  little  folk 
At  play  before  thee  ;  hop'st  thou  still,  O  child, 
For  future  heroes  to  delight  those  eyes 


THE  TWO  CLAIMANTS.  55 

Which  only  shine  for  demigods  ?     Nay,  turn 
Thy  face  around  and  chase  the  mighty  shades 
Who  fly  from  thee  !  Haste  now,  and  fare  thee  well  ! 

Farewell  to  thee  Britania,  ^ever  young  ! 
Thou  who  hast  made  a  never-ending  pact 
With  dawn  and  sunset,  equi-distant  powers, 
To  keep  their  heart-hues  on  thy  face  at  noon ; 
Who  hast  put  portions  of  thy  realm  far  off, 
To  show  how  easily  thy  regnant  will 
Can  leap  the  vast  and  hostile  intervals, 
Or  to  enjoy  perpetual  interchange 
Of  sweet  salutes  with  the  remote — the  dark — 
And  train  the  heart  to  tender  prophecies ; — 
Oh,  boundless  woe  !  that  thou  must  now  forsake 
These  eyes  and  go  where  neither  sound  of  voice 
Nor  divination  may  take  hold  of  thee. 

And  now  to  thee  Columbia,  1  speak, 
Sublime  and  dreadful  offspring  of  mine  age  ! 
Thou  wild,  unfilial  child  !      Keepest  thou  still 
That  face  turned  from  me?      Hidest  it  for  shame 
That  sorrow  hath  no  faint  impression  there, 
Or  art  thou  e'en  nnconscious  of  my  voice? 
I  feel  a  mystery  of  reverence 
Creep,  like  a  vapor,  o'er  the  lucid  streams 
Of  the  affections,  darkening  their  course  ; 
But  vague  and  doubting  guesses  of  thy  thought 
Haunt  the  vast  spaces  of  my  unfilled  life, 
And  bid  me  still  to  love  thee,  though  in  fear. 


,-,(;  THE   TWO  CLAIMANTS. 

Now  let  Farewell  drop  her  dark  curtain  down 
Between  thy  secret  and  my  auguries  ; 
Vet  would  I,  that,  in  some  far,  secret  time, 
Welcome  might  ring  that  curtain  up  again, 
And  show  thee  true  protagonist  of  earth. 

Now  all  my  children  whom  I  have  not  named. 
Farewell  !  farewell  !      Fade,  sink  away  !  henceforth 
Ye  are  but  ghosts  ;— wan  spectres  which  will  haunt 
All  drear  domains  of  space,  and  on  the  air 
Of  that  new  world  I  soon  shall  go  to  seek, 
Work  dim  alarms  and  subtle  shiverings." 

Soon  as  the  grieving  spirit  ceased  her  plaint, 
The  Spirit  of  the  World,  with  pity  moved, 
Spoke  thus  :   "O  erring  sister,  be  consoled  ! 
Let  such  a  change  go  o'er  thy  sudden  globe 
Of  woe,  as  thou  shalt  see  pass  pleasantly 
Around  the  circles  of  the  quickened  earth, 
When  I  shall  speak  to  it.     Soon  shalt  thou  see 
How  shrunken  man  hath  sore  offended  us, 
Who  had  the  power  to  see  his  destiny. 
And  thou  shalt  find  new  joy,  when  he  doth  turn 
His  perfect  face  unto  thee  ;   thou  shalt  know 
The  beauty  of  a  human  face,  when  all 
The  glory  which  has  settled  round  the  heart 
Shall  rise  like  white  flame  through  the  eased  life, 
And  pour  immortal  graces  in  the  fount 
Of  smiles  ;  when  all  the  sun-glow  drenching  earth, 


THE   TWO  CLAIMANTS.  57 

And  all  the  crimson  fervors  of  its  heart, 

Combine  in  fertile  juices  which  shall  feed 

No  growing  thing,  except  ,the  flower  of  song, 

Which  reaches  ever  to  man's  sacred  lips. 

There  is  but  one  humanity  ;  and  man — 

Yea  !  every  man — must  have  the  whole  of  earth, 

To  be  himself  as  whole.     Thou  hast  done  ill, 

To  so  divide  men  into  hostile  groups, 

That  each  must  keep  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  few, 

And  no  one  is  allowed  to  turn  his  face 

Toward  the  slow-shaping  wonder,  true  Mankind, 

And  force  that  darksome  giant  to  disclose 

The  perfect  image  worn  upon  his  heart. 

Thou  hast  restrained  their  sight  to  vortices, 

Whose  outer  rim  is  boundary  of  their  state, 

And  all  whose  lessening  circles  end,  at  last, 

In  the  sunk  centre-point  of  selfish  appetite. 

But  /  will  train  men's  vision  to  the  curves 

Of  earth,  and,  like  a  sea-fowl  o'er  the  waves, 

Shall  it,  with  dip  and  rise,  fly  'cross  the  land  ; 

And  I  will  teach  them  to  restore  the  earth 

To  its  first  beauty,  and  to  add  their  own 

Tnto  it  ;  yet  will  tell  them  that  all  space 

Is  theirs  ;  and  that  they  must  so  fling  themselves 

Into  that  larger  realm,  and  so  transfuse 

It  with  their  buoyant  blessedness,  that  soon, 

Their  little  earth  shall  seem  a  flowery  ball 

Which  trooping  spirits  carry  in  their  hands. 


THH    LAST    PRAYER. 

To  the  bare  summit  of  a  wooded  hill, 

Close  to  the  church  whose  altars  he  had  served 

The  years  since  manhood  had  dethroned  the  gods 

Of  pagan  infancy,  went  heavily 

An  old  priest,  sorrowful  of  heart  and  sore 

With  frequent  recoil  of  unanswered  prayer. 

There,  for  a  long  time,  stood  he  silently, 

With  eyes  that  turned  them  many  times  around 

The  circling  scope  of  sky,  as  if  they  wound 

Some  light  coil  of  the  heart's  expectancy 

Round  the  included  world  to  prison  it, 

Or  hold  it  for  his  leisure's  after-search. 

At  length,  with  tearful  face  upraised,  he  spoke. 

"  God,  I  have  waited  with  still  lips,  for  fear 
Mine  own  words  might  irreverently  invade 
The  chambers  of  mine  ear,  and  claim  the  space 
Thine  own  would  share  with  none,  unless  divine. 
Now  speak,  I  pray  Thee,  lest  mine  ear  do  feed 
So  long  on  silence  that  no  sound  again 
Have  power  to  waken  it  ! 

How  many  years 
Have  but  the  wasted  echoes  of  Thy  voice 


THE  LAST  PRAYER.  59 

-Sufficed  me  !   For  how  many  voiceless  years, 

Have  nought  but  misty  cloudlets  of  the  far 

And  thunderous  waterfall  of  speech  divine, 

Floated  the  dumb  void  through  of  dreariness  ! 

How  has  my  thin  hair  whitened  o'er  the  black 

I  )espair  of  the  heart,  because  Thou  heardst  me  not  ! 

1  do  beseech  Thee  now  for  but  one  word  ! 

That  1  may  know,  full  surely,  whether  it 

Were  formed  above  a  heart  or  no.     If  now 

Thou  dost  not  speak,  I  fear  Thou  never  wilt 

When  I  am  shamed  amidst  the  deities 

Who  spread  Thy  presence  in  some  other  world. 

Rut  tell  me,  God,  where  I  may  hear  Thy  voice  ! 

Is  it  where  bright  and  busy  lightnings  whet 

The  earth's  sharp  peaks  to  keen  attentiveness  ? 

Or  where  the  mountains  hold  themselves  apart 

To  make  Thee  all  sufficing  room  to  lay 

The  broad  front  of  Thy  words  in?  Is  it  where 

The  world  has  given  up  some  feet  of  earth 

To  Thee,  and  wrought  opinion  into  stone 

To  cover  it,  and  set  men  up  to  watch 

For  Thee,  with  thrifty  lie-inwoven  lips 

Well-bated  with  old  words  of  Thine,  to  catch 

Thy  newer  voice  with?  Nay  !  that,  in  sooth, 

Is  but  the  hunter's  clumsy  art,  and  Thou 

Wilt  suffer  no  pursuit.     Have  I  not  stood 

There  while  the  shadow-dropping  years, 

Like  woods,  were  beaten  for  their  quarry,  till 


(iO  THE  LAST  PKAYKR. 

Mine  ears  grew  weary  with  the  lengthened  chase, 

And  Echo  was  aggrieved  for  want  of  new, 

Sweet  words?  But  I  have  pitied  her,  and  brought 

The  strong  restoratives  of  lusty  shout 

And  robust  laugh  and  song  such  as  the  street 

Doth  often  feed  her  with. 

And  I  have  prayed 

To  Kcho  before  now,  what  time  mine  ear 
\Vas  strained  with  striving  for  Thy  distant  voice. 
Thinking  that  she  might  take  some  subtle  sound 
( )f  message  which  mine  ears  took  not,  and  would 
Repeat  it  louder  unto  me. 

O  (lod, 

I  know  Thou  art .'  although  Thou  shunnest  me, 
And  speakest  not,  nor  show'st  Thy  face  ;  but  yet 
I  thank  Thee  I  am  no  philosopher  ! 
I  do  not  care  to  make  a  name  to  stamp 
My  ignorance  on  ;    1  would  not  undertake 
To  placard  mysteries  and  think  them  better  known. 
To  build  a  wall  around  the  night,  would  not 
Make  any  star  more  bright  ;  and  why  then  build  ? 
I  cannot  stop  to  make  Thee  ere  1  speak, 
Or  make  excuse  for  Thee  as  one  who  lacks 
Some  godlike  quality  men  may  discern  ; 
1  would  not  view  the  shadow  of  myself, 
Thrown  forward  on  the  bank  of  mingled  glooms 


THE  LAST  PRAYER.  01 

That  is  the  future,  and  pay  homage  to  it ; 
1  would  not  so  misprize  Thee  as  to  call 
Prevision  of  the  perfect  self,  true  God  ; 
Nor  would  1  so  disperse  Thee  through  the  world 
That  Thou  art  robbed  of  that  sweet  attribute, 
Dearest  to  man,  the  personal  life  of  self ;  — 
I  only  feel  Thee  God,  and  see  Thy  power 
Working  superiorly  beside  mine  own. 

There  may  be  higher  Gods  than  Thou  ;  let  be  ! 

That  makes  the  need  of  Thee  no  less  for  earth 

Where  Thou  art  dominant.     Yet  know  I  not 

What  rights  and  offices  exclusively 

Are  Thine  in  this  commingling  life  ;  I  fail 

To  disentangle,  fairly,  Thine  from  mine, 

When,  in  his  every  task,  Thou  deign'st  to  be 

Co -laborer  with  man  ;   I  cannot  find, 

Within  me,  or  without,  or  anywhere, 

The  simple,  pure,  etherial  element 

Of  God,  dissociate,  and  Himself  alone. 

I  cannot  see  Thee  ;  but  Thy  presence  here 

Moves  on  some  subtler  sense  than  sight,  with  touch, 

Broader  than  mine  own  being — larger  far 

Than  nature  which  surrounds  and  only  seems 

But  as  Thy  finger  on  me  ;   till  the  soul 

Thrilling  with  all  the  beauties  of  the  world 

Assures  itself  of  Thee  exultantly. 


62  THE  LAST  PRAYER. 

Yea,  God,  I  know  that  Thou  art  beautiful  ! 
The  faded  images  of  Thee  which  men 
Have  drawn  upon  the  surface  of  the  rough 
Conglomerate  of  their  mingled  hopes  and  fears, — 
How  can  I  own  them  ?  how  can  I  revere 
The  phantom  shapes  of  sickly  ecstasies, 
Wherein  some  human  worth  doth  often  die, 
To  leave  a  ghost  to  figure  as  a  God  ? 
How  less  than  hate  those  color-clad  conceits 
Which  stare  at  me  so  boldly  from  the  walls, 
When  I  rehearse  Thy  sacred  mysteries, 
And  touch  the  symbols  of  Thee,  in  the  hush 
Between  loud  heart-beats  ?   Kven  in  the  free 
And  boundless  treasury  of  sweet  things 
Where  now  I  stand,  I  dare  not  contemplate 
These  earthly  charms  and  sky  dependencies, 
As  types  of  Thee  or  any  part  of  Thee  ; 
Thinking,  mayhap,  the  flowers,  fields  and  birds 
And  cloud  accompaniment  of  the  days 
Progressive  pagentry,  might  closer  be 
Unto  the  beauty  of  this  human  heart, 
Than  unto  Thee — for  I  do  here  maintain 
That  man  has  his  own  beauty  e'en  as  God — 
But  my  best  witness  to  Thy  beauty,  stands 
The  soul  interpreting  each  beauteous  thing 
As  but  a  guide  to  Thee,  although  Thou  yet 
Dost  hide  Thyself  before  me  as  I  seek. 

But  dost  Thou  so  love  silence  that  no  word 


THE  LAST  PRAYER.  63 

May  be  vouchsafed  to  me,  who  wait  so  long? 

Live  there  then  other  (lods  to  talk  with  Thee, 

And  canst  Thou  not  forsake,  for  but  this  once, 

The  long  entrancement  of  their  speech  to  say 

One  word  to  me,  who  hearest  but  earthly  words? 

Is't  then  that  the  large  import  of  Thy  words 

Out-reaches  the  divided  day  of  man, 

And  that  to  hear  Thy  briefest  utterance, 

Must  one  live  on  uninterruptedly, 

In  a  broad  plane  of  open  consciousness, 

While  night  and  sleep,  forced  back  by  might  of  self, 

Mount  slowly  in  black  drifts  on  either  hand  ? 

Or  is  Thy  voice  dispersed  in  separate  tones, 

Throughout  the  whole  of  nature,  so  that  each 

That  uttereth  sound  in  all  the  living  world, 

Doth  speak  the  word  of  God?     O  then  recall 

The  scattered  and  disordered  filaments 

Of  fluent  speech,  and  reunited,  pour 

The  whole  supernal  flood  upon  my  soul, 

Though  there  be  silence  in  both  earth  and  Heaven, 

And  speech  comes  never  more  from  these  old  lips  ! 

It  is  believed  that  Thou  aforetime  spoke 

To  chosen  men,  who  heard  Thee  reverently  ; — 

1  )eliver  now  one  word  to  me,  that  I 

May  show  Thee  how  those  patriarchal  saints 

Did  shorten  hearing  to  a  vulgar  mark 

And  offered  Thee  contempt  of  common  ear  ; 


64  THE  LAST  PRAYER. 

For  I  will  listen  to  Thee  as  a  god, 

Although  my  speech  is  spotted  o'er  with  earth  ! 

Shall  1  believe  the  sacred  histories, 

Which  say  that  Thou  didst  really  speak  to  them, 

If  Thou  refusest  now  to  speak  to  me  ? 

Had  olden  men  the  watchword  to  (iod's  house, 

And  I  and  other  men  of  this  new  time, 

Not  gain  admission  for  communion  there  ? 

Was  then  Thy  speech  a  favor  of  Thy  grace, 

Or  quick  concession  to  discovery 

Of  secret,  subterranean  ways  to  Thee? 

Lingers  there  yet,  with  latent  potency, 

Amidst  the  debris  of  disrupted  speech, 

Some  magic  reliquary  of  old  words 

Which  once  were  fitly  used  to  summon  ( kxl  with  ? 

What  lack  1  then  of  that  sufficiency 

Which  pleasedst  Thee  in  them0     Is  it  against 

Or  for  us  of  to-day,  that  what  was  thought 

Thy  very  word,  hath  mingled  with  the  world 

These  many  thousand  years  ?  that  I  have  heard 

It  three  score  years  and  more,  and  reverently 

Have  worn  my  lips  with  it,  dost  Thou  adjudge 

Me  now  less  worthy  of  an  audience? 

'Twere  better,  Thou  hadst  ne-rcr  spoken  then  ! 

Dost  Thou  attribute  it  as  guilt  to  me, 

That  when  my  lips  have  uttered  forth  the  words 

Alleged  of  Thee,  I  did  not  visibly 

Put  on  the  aspect  of  divinity — 


THE  LAST  PRAYER. 

The  awful  splendors  of  a  god  that  grew 

More  godlike  in  the  work  of  putting  truth 

Of  Heaven  in  earthly  words — to  then  and  there, 

Perform  the  miracle  of  making  speech 

Of  man  transpierce  man's  shield  of  habitudes, 

And  reach  the  soul,  as  reached  it  that  first  word 

That  through  the  clearness  of  the  virgin  air 

Did  fall  upon  it?     Nay,  I  could  not  help 

That  men  should  see  the  common  man  that  stood 

Behind  Thy  words,  and  give  a  careless  ear 

Unto  Thy  minister  !     I  could  not  help 

That  men  should  come  as  if  to  see  Thy  face, 

And  only  see  some  unetherial  light 

Upon  the  far  side  of  their  sins,  and  shamed 

Thee,  being  satisfied  that  it  was  (iod  ! 

Yet  be  not  wroth  with  me,  Thy  servitor, 

For  their  insensibility  ;   or  that 

They  left  the  dust  upon  me  of  dead  hearts  ! 

Still  silent,  God  !  or  dost  Thou  speak  in  vain  ? 

Is  then  my  soul  so  bounden  to  mine  ear, 

That  its  choked  channels  stop  Thine  ample  voice? 

Nay,  now  I  am  as  one  disbodied  quite  ! 

I  have  no  past  !  I  am  become  a  child, 

With  flight  of  eagle  added  !  from  the  white 

Self-lighted  burning  of  my  rising  heart, 

Experience,  like  a  smoke,  doth  roll  away, 

And  every  fond  remembrance  of  old  joys 


6«  THE  LAS  T  PR  A  YER. 

Doth  die  to  send  an  incense  unto  Thee  ! 
I  make  clear  space  around  my  naked  soul, 
That  Thou  mayst  drop  one  word  into  the  void  !" 

Here  ended  his  wild  prayer  ;  and  following, 
Was  no  sound  manifest  of  any  kind, 
Save  only  his  own  sobbing  :  as  if  awe 
Of  that  assuageless  grief  held  all  things  mute. 
At  last  the  old  man  turned  his  white  face  down 
Towards  the  great  church  he  had  ascended  from, 
"But  recogni/ed  it  not  for  foreignness  ; 
Then  down  the  hill's  remoter  side  did  pass. 


THE  WONDERFUL  WORKMEN. 

Four  men  met  in  an  open  field, 
When  awe  still  held  the  stars  away, 

Although  the  sun  had,  sated,  reeled 
Down  from  the  ivory  peaks  of  day. 

Workmen  they  were,  but  work  had  left 
Them  all  unwearied  as  at  dawn  ; 

For  strength  is  always  safe  from  theft, 
Unless  weak  sloth  is  guardian. 

A  farmer,  mason,  weaver  made 

The  first  three  of  this  company  ; 
The  fourth  pursued  as  good  a  trade, — 

The  high  one  of  ship-carpentry. 

Noble  and  grave  these  four  men  seemed  ; 

Dauntless,  calm-voiced  and  vision-taught ; 
The  light  which  from  their  pure  eyes  streamed 

Had  long  run  by  the  shores  of  thought. 

Their  eyes  were  serious,  earnest  eyes, 

Like  those  which  reverent  Wonder  leads  ; 

As  though  they  long,  with  spirits  wise, 
Had  walked  behind  the  noblest  deeds. 


G8  THE  WONDERFUL   WORKMEN. 

Their  spirits'  toils  did  never  stop, 

And  when  their  rude  tools  they  laid  by, 

They  seized  the  ones  the  angels  drop 
When  they  draw  near  the  Deity. 

Eternal  power  flowed  away 

From  their  great  hearts  on  every  side  ; 
The  labor  of  their  hands  by  day, 

Was  but  the  drift  upon  that  tide. 

The  life  they  knew  was  unconfined, 

And  so  surpassed  the  frame  that  delves, 

That  they  appeared  to  human-kind 
As  cordial  comrades  of  themselves. 

No  weight  of  self  was  on  their  hands, 
And  light  as  life  their  potent  touch  ; 

For  Nature  hears  the  heart's  commands, 
And  all  things  earthly  yield  to  such. 

And  all  the  varied  implements, 

Which  felt  each  day  their  noble  grasp, 

Answered  the  firm  hands  pure  intents, 
And  knew  at  once  the  double  clasp. 

These  workmen  never  toiled  for  bread, 
Though  living  bread  they  never  lacked  ;- 

It  grew  where'er  their  labor  led, 
And  sent  a  stalk  from  every  act. 


THE   WONDERFUL   WORKMEN.  «<> 

They  worked  for  joy,  for  well  they  knew 
That  joy  but  marked  their  spirits'  sway  ; 

And  if  they  took  the  wages  due, 

They  took  that  they  might  throw  away. 

They  worked  because  their  hearts  were  strong, 
And  others  seemed  more  weak  than  they  ; 

They  worked  to  lessen  every  wrong 
On- kindred  hearts  that  heavy  lay. 

They  worked  to  break  the  bands  of  need, 

That  drew  the  fairest  souls  awry  ; 
They  worked  to  substitute,  with  speed, 

The  leisure  of  love's  sunbeam  tie. 

They  worked  to  fashion  silent  roads 

From  out  their  pent  hearts'  deadening  din  ; 

That  from  their  far-off,  blest  abodes, 
The  peaceful  spirits  might  come  in. 

How  great  the  joy,  as  these  men  meet, 

Flows  full  into  their  beings'  core  ! 
Each  as  his  neighbor  he  doth  greet, 

Feels  all  the  perfect  joy  of  four. 

They  know  each  other  at  first  sight, 

And  their  embrace  endureth  long  ; 
They  hear  each  other  with  delight, 

And  each  doth  tell  his  tale  in  sone. 


70  THE  WONDERFUL   WORKMEN. 

SONG  OF  THE  SHIP-CARPENTKR. 

Here  me  well  !  dear  brothers  three  ; 
My  craft  is  good  and  my  heart  is  free  ; 

I  build  ships  of  firmest  plank, 
And  many  have  stroked  the  sinking  sea, 

But  never  yet  one  sank. 

Many  voyages  have  I  gone 

Upon  each  ship  before  'twas  done  ; 

Many  a  time  have  spread  the  sails, 
And  travelled  swifter  than  the  sun, 

Afar  till  ocean  fails. 

There  was  no  crew  upon  the  deck  ; 
I  only,  manned  my  seeming  wreck 

Unbuilded  yet  to  perfect  form  ; 
No  rock  beneath  the  wave  could  check, 

Nor  ever  any  storm. 

Thus  afloat  each  vessel  grew, 

Sea  and  storm  tried  each  piece  new  ; 

And  their  protection  first  was  given, 
And  love  was  sworn  and  pledges  true, 

Before  a  bolt  was  driven. 

The  winds  and  waves  accept  my  float  ; 
Their  nature  breathe  in  every  boat, — 
Breathe  speed  and  scorn  of  docks  ; 


TUE   WONDERFUL   WORKMEN.  71 

And  many  gentle  guides  devote, 
For  risk  of  rocks. 

Upon  the  apex  of  the  sea, 
Where  all  the  waves  do  well  agree 

To  not  abandon  any  shore, 
But  flow  each  way  impartially  ; 

There  often  do  I  moor. 

And  all  the  waves  I  tie  together, — 
Tie  with  a  loose  and  loving  tether  ; 

Which  yet  shall  hold  like  bands  of  steel, 
In  summer  or  in  winter  weather, 

'Neath  my  ship's  keel. 

Then  speak  I  to  the  willing  waves, 

And  tell  them  what  my  sad  heart  craves  ; 

And  bid  them  say  to  every  beach, 
A  ship  shall  come  that  nothing  saves, 

Hut  hath  a  gift  for  each. 

And  bid  them  cry  to  all  souls  there, 
To  hasten  with  continuous  care, 

To  find  the  freight  that  ne'er  was  told 
By  hand  that  hurts  or  makes  despair, 

Into  a  vessel's  hold  ; — 

The  freight  which  once  a  ship  of  state, 
First  bore  away  from  Heaven's  gate — 


THE   WONDERFUL   WORKMEN. 

Life's  love-encircling  zone — 
J!ut  lost  upon  some  shore  of  hate, 
The  place  unknown. 

THK  SOXi;  OF  IMF.  \\KAVF.K. 

My  work  is  weaving,  and  my  kin 

Are  those  who  weave  and  those  who  spin  ; 
Hut  most  of  all  my  kindred  are 

The  loomless  weavers  near  and  far. 
Whose  fabrics  pure  and  bright  and  thin, 

Would  clothe  a  hope  or  robe  a  star. 

There's  one  who  weaves  the  rain-bow  wreath, 
Which  dying  furies  do  bequeath 

To  the  departing  storm-cloud's  heir  ; 
And  one  who  weaves  the  flushes  rare, 

Which  flicker  o'er  flame's  lambent  sheath, 
And  'cross  the  restless  lightning's  lair. 

Beneath  the  moon's  low  canopy, 

Some  slumberous  weavers  lie  ; 
In  dreams  they  weave  the  raiment  bright, 

My  fairy  worn  and  favored  sprite, 
As  down  to  earth  they  radiant  fly, 

To  consecrate  the  fane  of  night. 

Another,  the  dawn  weaver,  weaves 

The  sacrificial  dress  the  earth  receives, 
When  comes  in  person  the  adored  one 


THE   WONDERFUL   WORKMEN. 

To  tend  his  altar  of  the  sun  ; 
And  penitence  again  achieves 

I  )ay  fresh  as  the  fount  of  Helicon. 

And  one  there  is,  who,  near  the  skies, 
Weaves  glamours  for  all  lovers'  eyes, 

And  weaves,  oh,  wondrous  art  !  besides, 
White  visions  of  the  sanctified  ; 

Which  swifter  than  the  eagles  rise, 
And  widen  as  the  heavens  are  wide. 

Kach  is  my  comrade,  each  my  teacher  ; 

The  sun  also,  the  downward-readier ; 
Who  blends  in  Nature's  ceaseless  loom, 

The  earth's  sad  shade  with  his  own  bloom  ; 
And  helpeth  most  the  pale  beseecher, 

Who  kneeleth  in  her  western  room. 

And  though  I  may  not  weave  as  they, 
Vet  work  T  in  my  cloth  each  day, 

Some  cunning  threads  which  ne'er  were  spun 
By  flower-wheel  from  the  heart  of  the  sun  ; 

And  many  subtle  plans  I  lay, 

That  all  my  cloth  be  fairly  done. 

I  would  that  all  who  shall  it  wear, 
Might  find  that  it  will  never  tear  ; 

That  every  heart  which  beats  below 
The  fabric  I  have  woven  so, 


74  THE.  WONDERFUL   WORKMEN. 

Shall  touch  the  spring  and  feel  the  snare, 
And  swiftly  all  the  others  know. 

From  Morning's  face  or  l;.vening's  mask, 

I  take  new  virtue  for  my  task  : 
And  better  threads  I  often  gain 

Where  saints  have  wept  or  angels  lain  : 
And  every  gentle  thing  I  ask 

For  floss  from  its  soft  skein. 

Although  1  can,  with  all  my  care, 

Weave  not  what  pure  immortals  wear, 

I  yet  may  form  the  fabric  meet 

To  lie  beneath  their  hovering  feet  ; 

And  that  shall  keep  me  from  despair, 
Until  I  die,  if  death  be  fleet. 

SONG  OK    THK    FARMKR. 

In  the  house  of  the  foliate  forces, 

I  am  only  a  favorite  servant  ; 
Hut  my  service  is  free  as  the  water-courses, 

And  my  love  for  my  lords  is  fervent. 
See  these  arms  and  these  hands  that  in  seasons  unnum 
bered 

My  masters  with  treasures  have  cumbered  ; 
Strong  to  swing  lightly  their  ponderous  doors, 

Strong  to  sweep  often  their  measureless  floors  ; 
And  with  ease  I  can  manage  the  broad  furrow-shutter, 

Through  which  their  fringe-flowing  draperies  flutter. 


THE   WONDERFUL   WORKMEN.  7~> 

How  arose  this  body  so  mighty  and  massive? 

Have  some  deities  wrought  while  I  remained  passive? 
Some  sky  calisthenics  in  secret  employed  ? 

( )r  some  perfect  gymnast  unheeding  destroyed, 
And  invested  me  with  the  muscular  treasure, 

Which  gives  to  my  labors  an*exquisite  pleasure? 
So  like  to  a  gladiator  sometimes  I  feel, 

That  my  brain  with  delirium  almost  will  reel  ; 
And  I  seem  to  behold  the  lords  of  brute  force, 

As  eager  spectators  who  wildly  lean  out 
From  their  cloud-amphitheatres,  with  many  a  shout 

And  sign  of  delight,  as  T  rage  round  the  course. 

For  a  nobler  service  T  also  am  free  ; 

And  the  robing  room  of  my  masters  I  keep, 
Where  the  ancient  gowns  of  their  order  sleep  ; 

And  often  I  see,  or  believe  that  I  see, 
What  they  lay  aside  as  they  come  near  me  ; 

What    they    take    from  their    forms  and   give   to   the 

flower, 
Hang  on  the  neck  of  the  swift-passing  shower, 

( >r  fling  o'er  the  wave-rent  garb  of  the  sea  : — 
All  brought  from  the  farms  of  the  far,  solar  plains, 

Where  the  quick,  yellow  seed  is  unweariedly  sown, 
And  the  harvests  up-spring  from  the  unburied  grains, 

And  at  morning  and  evening  are  mown. 

From  their  haunts  and  habits  aerial, 
From  the  realms  and  regions  imperial, 


70  THE   WONDERFUL    \\'ORh'MK\. 

From  their  seats  in  the  shade  of  the  moon, 

Or  on  the  white  wings  of  the  noon, 
With  greetings  and  grace  magisterial, 

They  come,  when  they  hear  the  light  fall 
( )f  the  seed,  as  their  subtle  recall. 

Confused  is  the  whir  of  their  answering  wings, 

And  countless  the  gifts  which  every  one  brings  ; 
All  poured  in  disorderly  masses  around, 

For    Confusion    still    makes    the     first    claim    to    the 

ground  ; 
But  I  am  the  foe  of  the  mad  Miscellaneous, 

And  oppose  with  my  weapons  extemporaneous  : 
And  I  house  like  a  shepherd  the  all  holy  Kinds, 

The  images  pure  of  infinite  Minds. 

But  evil  gets  mixed  with  their  glorious  freight  : 

As  they   sweep   through   the   regions  of  far-spreading 
hate, 

They  catch  from  its  seas  the  venomous  drift, 
And  defile  in  its  froth  the  most  sacred  gift  : 

But  I  hear,  as  1  list  to  them  speeding  along, 

How  they  heal  it  with  blessings  and  purge  it  with  song. 

But  alas  !  how  fateful  and  past  their  pure  knowing, 
That  their  sacred  touch  is  sometimes  too  glowing  ! 

That  the  thrill  of  the  heart  and  the  speed  of  the  thought, 
May  oft  on  the  earth-destined  fabrics  be  wrought  ! 

But  I  know,  and  1  labor  with  might  and  with  zeal. 


THE   WONDERFUL   WORKMEN.  77 

To  draw  from  the  grain  what  makes  the  brain  reel : 
To  draw  from  the  fruit  what  shall  blast  with  delight 

Since  the  bliss  to  the  gods  may  to  us  be  a  blight ; 
Hut  strive  as  I  may,  they  will  never  endure 

That  a  mortal  shall  sully  what  they  have  made  pure. 

Far  different  the  harvest  /  take  from  my  lords, — 

Ineffable  motions  and  ravishing  words  ; 
The  inanv  in  one  is  revealed  in  each  act, 

And  multiplies  ever  each  radiant  fact  ; 
Kach  face  I  behold  of  that  seraph  band, 

Speaks  the  love  of  a  legion,  and  each  sacred  hand 
Thrills  with  the  touch  of  the  vibrating  wire 

Which  soweth  the  songs  of  some  angelic  choir  ; 
Kach  word  is  a  poem,  each  sound  a  sweet  song, 

And  each   blessing   seems    dropped    from   a  glorified 
throng. 

And  learning  of  them,  I  interpret  the  world  ; 

1  see  in  each  bud  how  the  petals  are  curled  ; 
From  each  flying  sound  I  loosen  a  trill  ; 

From  each  drop  of  dew  libations  I  spill ; 
Kach  kernel  of  corn,  which  in  foliage  flows, 

Bears  the  ear  on  its  currents  with  close  topaz  rows  ; 
All  the  least-valued  things  have  their  halos  of  glory, 

And  the  commonest  word  conveys  a  full  story  ; 
Kach  star  that  revolves  on  its  delicate  cogs — 

Which  ne'er  with  the  load  of  its  mysteries  clogs — 


78  THE   WONDERFUL   WORKMEN. 

Could  people  the  sky  with  as  splendid  a  host, 
If  all  who  now  roam  there  were  hopelessly  lost ; 

Through  the  portal  of  one  the  many  appear. 

And  the  many  may  bloom  though  the  portal  be  sere 

And  the  barren  and  dead  into  verdure  will  start, 

When  gathered  by  Love  and  sown  on  the  heart. 

THK  MASON'S  soxo. 

When  winds  their  stormy  dredges  dropped  to  earth. 

Deepening  the  channels  of  their  furious  tlow  : 
And  each  cloud  monster,  round  his  mighty  girth, 

Tightened  his  glittering  girdle  for  a  blow  : 
There  was  a  sound  of  many  mortals  falling, 

And  solemn-voiced  I  heard  the  sad  earth  calling  : 

"My  ene/nies  prevail,  my  children  die  : 

Winds,  rains,  heat,  cold,  my  armless  breast  attack  : 
And  all  the  restless  energies  that  fly, 

drudging  the  peace  which  they  must  ever  lack, 
Murder  the  dear  ones  whom  I  love  alone, 

And  those  who  know  my  voice's  large,  low.  tone. 

"O  build  me  homes  that  evermore  shall  hold 

Those  who  come  to  me  !  build  me  treasure-vaults, 

Straight  as  the  sun's  sheer  precipice  of  gold  ! 
Strong  as  the  sky  that  ne'er  its  stars  defaults  ! 

Pure  as  the  new  moon's  curving  waterfall. 
That  breaks  in  silvery  mist  illusional  I" 


THE   WONDERFUL   WORKMEN. 

The  voice  was  pleading,  yet  its  power  such, 
That  with  the  whirlwind's  spiral  draft, 

Fell  on  my  heart's  calm  atmosphere  its  touch, 
And  drew  it  to  the  summit  of  my  craft ; 

'I'h is  was  my  call  as  from  a  sacred  tongue, 
And  I  became  a  mason  while  still  young. 

When  first  the  scaffold's  narrow  ledge  I  walked, 
I  seemed  awakened  to  some  old  delight, 

Vague  and  mysterious,  which  my  senses  balked, 
Vet  dimly  pictured  to  the  inner  sight ; 

Sun,  clouds,  the  winds  and  winged  wanderers, 
Were  to  the  steed  beneath  my  heart  as  spurs. 

Hut  down  I  looked  upon  the  grave,  still  earth, 
Whose  solitude  did  seem  to  cover  prayer  ; 

And,  like  a  fertile  loam,  gave  ready  birth 
To  quiet  verdure  which  I  found  most  fair  ; 

In  vain  sought  winds  to  blow  my  love  away  ; 

Though  it  were  dust,  yet  on  my  heart  'twould  stay 

So  to  my  wall  I  cleave  and  with  it  rise, 

Till  I  am  higher  than  the  trees  ee'r  clomb  ; 

I  )etect  what  they  hold  upward  to  the  skies, 

And  learn,  besides,  how  keeps  her  crystal  home 

Kach  winged  inmate  of  the  airy  spaces, 

Where  nothing  sullies  and  where  naught  defaces. 

And  I  have  builded  many  homes  and  fair  ; 
Have  often  led  my  hollow  squares  of  stone, 


*0  THE  WONDERFUL   WORKMEN. 

In  many  a  charge  against  the  foes  of  air, 

And  conquered  room  to  chamber  peace  alone  ; 

For  if  the  space  we  win  hold  not  repose, 

Twere  better  that  no  place  we  should  inclose. 

Of  every  home,  I  love  the  most  to  build 

That  one  for  which  some  loving  pair  shall  wait — 

In  every  other  enterprise  unskilled — 

To  lead  young  Love  within  the  unpassed  gate  ; 

But  quite  as  sacred  as  where  brides  shall  lie, 

Is  where  the  good  are  born,  and  where  they  die. 

Hut  higher  than  my  walls  of  brick  or  stone, 
I  build  light  structures  based  upon  my  heart, 

Reaching  as  high  as  ever  bird  hath  flown, 
Hright  as  dissolyen  stars  in  every  part  : 

And  rocking  on  the  pulses  of  my  days, 
Softly  as  shadows  on  the  waterways. 

Therein  doth  lie  as  in  a  wizard  palace, 

A  sweet,  young  spirit,  sunk  in  charmed  sleep  ; 

So  lulled  by  craft  of  elemental  malice, 

Since  I  refused  to  hear  the  winds  that  sweep  : 

Hut  I  shall  kiss  and  cure  that  charmed  brow, 
When  earth  shall  loose  me  from  my  early  vow. 

CONCLUSION. 

Thus  sang  they  through  the  lessening  light, 
And  reared  upon  the  pillared  strain, 

To  shield  them  from  the  growing  night, 
The  choral  dome  of  a  refrain  : 


THE  WONDERFUL  WORKMEN.        81 

Which  was  not  shaped  o'er  meager  words, 

Nor  ribbed  by  speech  in  any  part  ; 
Hut  bore  aloft,  like  song  of  birds, 

The  perfect  arches  of  the  heart. 

So  far  was  sped  that  fourfold  song, 

So  high  that  blended  music  went, 
Kach  seemed  precentor  of  a  throng 

( )f  those  whose  song  is  never  spent ; 

Hut  pours  unwasting  through  the  air, 

Through  space  unreached  by  other  power  ; 

And  aids  the  human  voices  rare, 
Which  only  holy  Love  doth  dower. 

Such  might  was  in  that  singing  band — 
Such  might  may  perfect  song  display — 

That  though  the  night  lay  on  the  land, 

Where  those  men  stood  'twas  light  as  day. 

I  know  not  whence  that  light  was  shed — 

1  only  saw  the  quenchless  glow — 
Whether  from  some  celestial  head, 

That  startling,  luminous  force  did  flow  ; 

( )r  whether  music's  essence  is 

A  steady,  white  and  limpid  flame. 
That  fades  whene'r  it  goes  amiss, 

Through  earthly  hearts  of  darkened  aim  ; — 


82        THE  WONDERFUL  WORKMEN. 

I  know  not,  though  I  sometimes  dream 
That  loving  hearts  may  keep  the  day  ; 

And  keep  alive  their  fiery  gleam, 
It" long  in  music's  draft  they  lay. 

Hut  in  that  light,  where'er  it  sprung, 
I  saw  revealed  a  wondrous  sight ; — 

Before  each  heart  of  those  who  sung, 
Lay  full  displayed  its  secre.t  might. 

And  far  across  the  land  there  stretched 
The  perfect  product  of  each  craft ; 

As  if  the  craftsman's  dreams  were  etched 
Upon  a  mighty  silver  shaft. 

Oh,  earth  and  sea  and  man  were  dressed, 
As  they  were  never  dressed  before  ! 

Unless  it  were,  when  they  expressed 
The  life  that  leaped  from  every  pore. 

The  ships  that  lived  upon  the  sea, 

Seemed  waves  that  broke  not  when  up-cast ; 

The  sails  that  with  the  winds  agree, 

Were  flowers  that  bloom  upon  the  mast. 

The  fields  before  the  farmers'  feet, 
Had  verdure  that  for  e'er  abides  ; 

The  harvests  that  the  whole  year  greet, 
Were  fattened  in  the  solar  tides. 


THE  WONDERFUL  WORKMEN.  S3 

The  houses  of  the  happy  folk, 

Like  living  things,  lay  on  the  earth  ; 
And  in  chameleon  changes  spoke 

Each  perfect  moment's  blissful  birth, 

And  man  again  was  nobly  clad, 

In  raiment  equal  to  his  face, 
And  every  glowing  member  had 

A  shield  that  hid  no  natural  grace  ; 

But  matched  the  body's  bright  extern, 
And  matched  the  throbbing  life  within  ; 

And  veined  for  holy  fires  that  burn 
All  stains  upon  the  tissue  thin. 

But  as  I  watched  those  seraph  forms, 
And  lived  as  part  of  that  bright  scene, 

A-sudden,  night's  black,  locust  swarms 
Began  to  fall  on  that  pure  sheen. 

And  as  the  snowy  light  grew  dim, 
I  knew  the  four-fold  song  was  done  ; 

And  in  the  twilight  of  that  hymn, 
The  parting  of  those  men  begun. 

I  could  not  see  that  sacred  rite, 

Or  know  what  parting  words  were  said  ; 

But  as  they  vanished  from  my  sight, 
I  heard  faint  moanings  overhead. 


THE  TRAMP. 


Some  children  played  before  me  in  the  street, 

And,  in  my  thought,  they  tripped  o'er  silver  wires 

Heart-fashioned  of  the  past,  and  music  sweet 
Rose  from  the  stones  in  mists  of  rare  desires  ; — 

\Vhen  lo  !  with  shout  of  "Tramp  !  "  they  ran  away, 

To  take  elsewhere  their  never-alien  play. 

The  tramp  came  slowly  in  the  children's  wake, 
As  though  he  walked,  with  awe,  on  holy  ground. 

And  in  those  empty  realms  of  joy  did  shake, 
Aghast  at  having  shin  such  happy  sound. 

"Come  back  !"  he  cried,  "people  again  this  place  ! 

Come  back,  O  Joy,  with  all  thy  radiant  race  !" 

He  nearer  came,  and  I  beheld  him  plain  ; 

A  slender  figure,  finely  wire-drawn, 
As  if  to  carry  messages  of  pain  ; — 

A  face  that  seemed  a  quivering,  white  dawn  ; 
And  eyes  like  beacons  on  a  dangerous  coast, 
That  lighted  but  the  ships  already  lost. 

But  coming  near,  he  turned  his  eyes  on  me, 
And  there  appeared  such  largeness  in  his  looks 


THE   TRAMP.  85 

As  could  not  lie  in  self's  small  boundary  ; 

And,  like  the  sunfish  in  the  sunny  brooks, 
Inquiry  swam  within  those  restless  eyes, 
And  doubt  upon  them  dropped  her  floating  lies. 

He  paused  and  spoke  to  me,  still  standing  there, 
With  voice  that  sank  before  the  feared  reply, 

And  stranger  words  were  never  said,  I  swear  ! 
Since  earth  first  shuddered  at  a  human  cry. 

"I  seek,"  he  said,  "what  others  do  not  need  ; 

If  thou  dost  know  its  place,  ()  thither  lead  ! 

"Far  have  [  come,  since  1  began  the  search  ; 

My  days  seem  strung,  like  beads,  upon  the  way  ; 
And  yet,  I  fear  me,  that  beyond  death's  perch 

Must  lie  the  goal  for  which  I  ever  pray. 
I  know  I  have  not  passed  it  on  the  road, 
For  everywhere  want's  cry  has  been  my  goad. 

"And  ever  have  I  questioned  those  I  met, 
For  tidings  of  the  thing  for  which  I  sought ; 

Have  asked. the  laborer  with  his  face  of  sweat, 
The  idler  in  his  dreams  that  come  to  nought ; 

The  old,  beneath  the  shadow  of  their  aims, 

The  young,  who  scarce  are  schooled  in  their  joys'  names." 

"Fnter,"  I  said,  "strange  man,  for  rest  and  food, 

And  tell  me,  after,  all  thy  wondrous  tale." 
"The  strong  flow  of  my  heart  to  Hunger's  brood, 


86  THE   TRAMP. 

Sweeps  food  from  mine  own  lips,  as  by  a  gale  : 
I  am  not  weary,  and  my  tale  is  brief; 
And  thou  shalt  hear  it  for  mine  own  relief. 

"  'Twere  better  to  be  born  on  some  bare  rock, 
Or  'neath  the  clamorous  cyclone's  dervish  feet ; 

Or  by  the  doors  at  which  the  lightnings  knock, 
Or  in  the  poisoned  place  where  serpents  meet ; 

Than  draw  from  Wealth's  hot  teat  of  blistering  sand 

Her  dead-sea  milk,  by  the  sirocco  fanned  ! 

"Wealth  is  a  fortress  built  against  the  sun  ; 

An  ambush  set  for  angels  ;  a  defence 
'Gainst  the  world's  love  ;  an  opiate  cordial  won, 

When  Heaven's  face  would  be  the  watcher's  recom 
pense  ; 

A  draft  from  Styx  ;  a  duct  from  that  black  stream 
To  irrigate  the  regions  of  a  dream. 

"I  was  born  rich  ;  and  all  a  father's  gain 
Was  stored  away,  with  all  the  marks  effaced 

( )f  his  strange  instruments — once  printed  plain, 
And  every  purpose  and  result  there  traced  ; — 

The  wealth  was  but  a  cavern  home  for  me, 

Heneath  the  sunny  heights  of  industry. 

"I  lived  as  in  a  cave  :  my  treasure  vaults 

Seemed  filled  by  secret  channels  reaching  up 
To  where  creative  labor  never  halts  ; — 


THE  TRAMP.  87 

Seemed  draining  stealthily  her  humble  cup  ; 
The  very  drops  upon  my  cavern  wall 
Were  but  the  ooze  of  labor's  pressing  thrall. 

"And  when  1  sat  without  that  dark  recess, 
1  saw  the  workmen  passing  to  the  heights, 

With  lowering  brows  and  bodies  comfortless, 
And  hand  that  hardens  slowly  ere  it  smites ; 

And  bearing  banners  oft  inscribed  with  "Want," 

Which  they  turned  towards  me  with  a  frequent  taunt. 

"If  down  I  traveled  to  the  shaded  deep, 

I  found  there  but  the  ghost  of  the  despoiled  ; — 

People  whose  names  were  whispered  in  my  sleep, 
As  having  once  upon  my  treasure  toiled  ; 

Till  I  could  find  on  every  coin  and  stone 

Some  other's  name  ; — on  none  could  see  mine  own. 

"Oh,  why  is  wealth  established  were  it  is, 

All  toil  above,  and  every  want  below? 
Why  can  it  not  be  built  in  realms  of  bliss, 

Beyond  the  heights  which  toil  doth  crown  like  snow? — 
Hut  yet,  if  it  were  there,  'twould  fade  in  mist  : 
For  in  that  holy  air  wealth  never  could  exist. 

"I  had  not  learned  to  climb  the  lofty  steep, 

And  saw  but  horror  in  the  vale  below ; 
I  knew  not  where  the  vines  of  pleasure  creep, 

( )r  where  the  summer  draws  her  breezy  bow 


88  THE   TRAMP. 

Across  the  silvery  streamlet's  tightened  strings, 
And  through  the  viol  of  the  pine  tree  sings. 

"Oh,  wealth  is  like  a  lonely,  mateless  bird, 
That  dips  it  wings  not  in  the  common  air  ' 

Deep  in  the  earth  its  heavy  flight  is  heard, 
Where  only  it  and  reckless  miners  dare  ; — 

What  company  for  me  in  all  the  land, 

When  all  around  me  had  a  different  hand  ? 

"I  seemed  a  dam  upon  the  streams  of  joy  ; 

A  ligature  upon  a  rounded  vein  ; 
Or  clot  that  might  the  baffled  heart  destroy, 

That  it  with  life  should  never  beat  again  : 
Yet  all  that  flowed  before  mine  alien  face, 
Was  marked  for  others  in  an  other  place. 

"And  why  was  I  not  there?     Why  was  1  placed 
So  near  the  fountain,  that  its  forceful  rlo:v 

Swept  all  things  past  ere  ever  1  could  taste? — 
So  near  to  Nature,  that  her  mighty  bow 

Sent  all  her  arrows  far  above  my  head, 

And  all  her  blessings  far  beyond  me  sped  ! 

"Hut  1  can  give,  \  thought,  if  not  receive; 

And  I  will  draw  my  bow  of  generous  deed, 
And  every  arrow  shall  some  want  reprieve, 

Till  one  doth  drop  the  thing  which  most  I  need 
And  if  it  be  what  makes  none  other  poor, 
Then  shall  I  take  it,  and  it  shall  endure. 


THE   TRAMP.  8!) 

With  eager  hand  I  brought  my  treasures  forth, 
And  spread  them  in  the  sight  of  all  who  passed  ; 

What  way  soe'er  they  traveled,  south  or  north 
( )r  east  or  west ;  whatever  greeting  cast ; — 

To  each  I  offered  what  he  most  did  crave  ; 

So  long  as  one  had  want,  I  nought  would  save. 

"When  all  was  gone  my  weary  quest  began, 

To  find,  somewhere,  the  good  none  else  did  need  ; 

And  as  1  journey,  everything  I  scan  ; 

Nor  doubt  but  that  I  shall  at  last  succeed, 

Although  my  way  has  ever  been  among 

The  things  to  which  some  private  want  was  hung." 

He  turned  away,  and  would  not  be  restrained  : 

I  bowed  my  head,  as  if  before  a  grave  ; 
For  well  I  knew  the  land  had  ne'er  contained, 

Nor  ocean  borne  upon  his  highest  wave, 
The  pri/e  he  sought  !  but  yet  I  knew,  indeed, 
He  soon  would  find  what  others  do  not  need. 


DEMOCRACY. 


Not  on  the  crust  of  earth,  Democracy, 

Wert  thou  begotien  !  but  within  the  core 

Of  some  fair,  glowing  world,  all  sea 

And  sunny  motion  to  the  boundless  shore, 

Whereto  its  balanced  waves  did  sing  and  flow, 

Poised  blissful  on  its  central  unity  : — 

There  wert  thou  born  ;  there  didst  thou  freely  grow, 

Thou  perfect  infant,  mothered  by  a  world 

Whose  crowded  lives,  from  every  part, 

Discharged  their  joys  upon  thine  even  heart  ; 

And  round  its  spheric  longings  curled, 

That  made  thine  earthward  flight 

Sweet  things  of  sacred  light. 


Before  man's  foot  had  touched  the  earth's  hard  marge, 

It  had  advanced  its  high,  white  peaks, 

To  make  for  thine  a  welcome  large, 

In  sign  of  what  it  mutely  seeks  ; 

And  thou,  as  tender  as  a  foam-child  born 

On  Heaven's  sea  when  surgeful  Music  speaks, 

Or  like  the  image  on  its  bosom  worn 

When  it  is  stilled  to  the  star-pebbled  shore, 


DEMOCRACY.  91 

By  Peace  who  crosses  with  her  muffled  oar  ; 
Descended  singing,  but  wert  scarcely  here, 
Before  thou  seemedst  a  hardy  mountaineer. 

How  in  a  moment  wert  thou  changed  ! 

Thy  peaceful  song  became  a  battle  cry, 

Which  from  thee,  somewhat,  Love  estranged  ; 

Thy  sweetly  ordered  garb  was  turned  awry ; 

Its  orbic  emblems  grew  distorted, 

As  if  by  crossed  attractions  thwarted  ; 

The  dust  of  strife  soon  blurred  thy  lustrous  eye  ; 

Thy  hands,  unbalanced,  moved  confusedly  ; 

But  thou  didst  falter  not ;  thy  heart  was  whole, 

And  had  no  flaw  for  fear  to  nestle  in ; 

And  dauntlessly  thou  strodest  towards  the  goal, 

Which  still  was  shining  through  the  dusty  din 

Where  man  should  settle  from  some  shattered  sphere, 

With  splinters  buried  in  his  heart  of  fear. 

Brief  was  thy  waiting ;  since  thou  scarce  hadst  taught 
The  earth  to  graft  with  silvery  streams  her  seas, 
And  scarce  the  forest's  friendly  compacts  wrought, 
And  grouped  all  living  things  in  families  ; 
When  man  fell  startled  on  the  earth's  hard  rind, 
With  v  ision  shaken  from  its  central  seat, 
And  henceforth  to  his  spirit's  marge  confined, 
As  he  to  earth's,  and  margined  things  to  greet ; 
And  ever  out  from  his  own  glory  turned,. 


92  DEMOCRACY. 

As  his  new  shadow  from  the  sun  was  spurned. 

And  while  bewildered  and  afraid  he  lay, 

He  saw  aloft  a  hateful  bird  of  prey, 

That,  like  an  auger,  bored  with  spiral  wings 

The  clear  air  towards  him  and  his  sweet  heart-springs 

And  from  the  clouds  he  heard  the  houseless  thunder, 

And  wild  beasts  raging  in  the  forest  under ; 

But  Nature's  quiet  explanations  made 

With  song  of  bird  and  sunlight's  aid, 

And  flowers  stationed  just  beyond  the  shade, 

He  knew  not,  since  he  was  not  brave  ; 

For  Beauty  even  shuns  a  slave. 

Art  th on  unmoved,  Democracy? 

So  listlessly  thou  movest  toward  the  spot. 

Has  the  cold  strangled  thy  divinity, 

Or  heat  engaged  in  some  malicious  plot, 

To  foil  thy  fleetness?  or,  in  sudden  freak, 

Hast  thou  the  swift  wind  chased,  that  now  so  weak  ? 

But  lo  !  I  wronged  thee,  since  thy  glorious  face, 

( )f  earthly  weariness  reveals  no  trace  ; 

But  there  before  thee  in  the  untried  way, 

Rise  foes  whose  strength  is  little  less  than  thine  ; 

Who  claim  o'er  man  the  first  delusive  sway  ; 

And  must  oppose  thee  and  thy  thoughts  divine. 

There  stand  Oppression,  Hatred,  Ignorance, 

And  Fear,  the  phantom,  with  his  looks  askance  ; 

But  on  thy  face  one  only  image  lies  : 


DEMOCRACY.  S 

'Tis  that  of  Pity  writing  thy  resolve  ; 
And  thou  dost  look  in  longing  toward  the  skies, 
To  find  the  spot  where  shall  again  revolve 
Man's  golden  world,  with  man  himself  restored — 
His  lordly  head  no  longer  lowered. 

Hark  !  does  that  sacred  vision  turn  to  song? 

O  holy  Pythoness,  was  that  a  chant, 

Which  from  thy  laughing  lips  rose  up  so  strong, 

That  Tumult's  tangle  were  a  breaker  scant 

For  that  full  flood,  which  could  not  be  confined 

By  aught  save  music  of  a  nobler  kind  ? 

Like  seraphs'  songs  heard  round  their  perfect  spheres, 

The  wild  strain  flows  !  Earth's  captured  hills 

No  more  keep  guard  !  the  lightning's  broken  spears 

Strike  down  the  airy  powers  of  hostile  wills  ! 

The  free  winds  aid,  and  scornfully  reject 

All  other  messages ;  but  thine  protect, 

Until  they  strike  the  ears  of  men  enslaved, 

And  turn  again  to  vision  !  Men  are  saved  ! 

And  now,  thy  foes  eluded,  I  behold 
Thee  mingling  watchfully  among  men  : 
Confusion  follows  on  thy  footsteps  bold  ; 
And  thou  dost  smite  the  despot,  Order,  when 
He  only  ranges  men  in  graded  rows, 
To  walk  in  single  file  and  not  oppose 
The  mandate  of  the  foremost  man  in  line. 
And  thou  dost  tell  men  not  to  look  on  one ; 


94  DEMOCRACY. 

But  turn  their  eyes  where'er  the  sun  doth  shine 
To  show  a  man  ;  or  where  there  now  is  none, 
If  only  once  his  shadow  there  has  lain. 
And  thou  dost  show  that  fear's  the  only  stain 
Which  cannot  be  washed  off  of  human  hands  ; 
That  man's  full  soul  hath  room  for  no  commands  ; 
And  that  his  brow  had  not  been  left  so  bare, 
If  but  Subjection's  name  were  to  be  printed  there. 

Where  hast  thou  learned  that  look  of  wrathful  scorn? 

Hast  thou  seen  brawls  aforetime  among  gods  ? 

Or  Heaven  desecrated,  when  some  demon-born 

Intruder,  smites  the  seraph  he  defrauds 

Of  his  exalted  rights  ?  Or  hast  thou  seen 

An  aweless  seraph  do  some  common  task, 

Nor  raise  his  eyes  when  near  him  gods  unmask, 

And  leave  unbared  their  glory-shedding  mien  ? 

For  when  thou  seest  man  sordid,  cheating,  raging, 

And  chiefly,  when  before  thee,  man  strikes  man, 

Thy  features  show  no  longer  mercy's  plan  ; 

But  mark  a  passion  that  is  long  assuaging  ; 

But  when  thou  seest  a  man  erect 

A  paltry  structure  which  he  calls  a  throne, 

For  his  lone  seat,  and  calmly  doth  expect 

Mankind  to  be  its  base  of  lifeless  stone  ; 

Then  laughter  loosens  but  thy  light  contempt, 

At  what  from  serious  care  is  well  exempt ; 

Thy  hand  but  rises  and  the  thing  is  gone. 


DEMOCRACY.  95 

Thou  speakest  not  to  all ;  but  first  dost  choose 

Thy  trusty  confidants  ;  men  of  reserve, 

Of  hearts  world- modeled,  and  of  thews 

That  might  have  bent  a  mountain  to  its  curve, 

Yet  would  have  feared  to  crook  or  cramp 

The  slender  column  of  another's  will, 

First  raised  to  hold  the  inspired  lamp 

Of  consecrated  thought  in  mists  of  ill. 

To  them  thou  needest  no  interpreter  ; 

For  thou  dost  ever  speak  their  ancient  speech, 

Which  they  have  learned  where  deities  confer, 

And  still  doth  echo  in  the  soul  of  each. 

How  dost  thou  tutor  these,  thine  own  elect? 

What  grace  bestow  from  thine  abundant  store? 

Dost  thou  their  hardened  limbs  with  charms  protect, 

Or  on  their  eyelids  dreamy  lotions  pour? 

Nay  !   thou  dost  simply  show  that  one  free  soul 

Out-weighs  the  whole  of  Nature's  beady  bowl, 

If  base  submission  mixes  with  the  drink  ; 

And  teachest  these  devoted  ones  to  think 

It  good  to  perish  for  their  cowering  race, 

And  crowd  their  boundless  lives  into  a  moment's  space. 

Is  Death's  thy  service  then?  didst  thou  appear 

To  only  show  the  mortal  how  to  die, 

And  from  his  latest,  living  thought  to  rear 

The  standard  of  a  dim  eternity? — 

To  leap  at  one  strong  bound  all  life's  extent, 


Ofi  DEMOCRACY. 

And  dwell  one  fiery  moment  on  its  verge, 
And  then  spring  lightly  to  his  banishment 
Into  the  dark  abyss — the  unseen  surge — 
And  holding  in  his  hands  upraised, 
A  little  snow  snatched  from  life's  highest  peaks, 
Or  winter  rose  by  icy  breezes  gla/.ed, 
To  charm  away  the  demon  vulture-beaks? — 
This  is  thy  mission  then?   Nay,  never  so  ' 
Hut  the  free  spirit  housed  in  every  man, 
Thou  wouldst,  full-statured  and  resistless,  show 
To  feeble  thousands  who  could  never  scan 
Its  noble  image  in  their  shrunken  thought, 
Nor  use  the  powers  to  their  fingers  brought. 

l»ut  in  the  splendor  of  a  great  man's  death, 

The  darkened  places  of  the  mind  are  light  ; 

And  with  the  flutter  of  his  latest  breath, 

The  earth  is  shaken  by  a  thing  of  might  ; 

And  the  world-currents  which  were  lately  choked, 

Break  down  all  dams  which  selfish  strength  hath  made, 

Or  wrongful  purpose  hath  invoked 

To  stop  the  stream  of  Nature's  equal  aid  ; 

And  in  the  quiet  of  the  afterfiow, 

Thy  voice  is  heard  again  ;   and  thou  dost  teach 

That  Nature  is  distrustful,  and  doth  countermand 

Each  perfect  gift,  unless  the  whole  shall  reach 

The  destined  port  of  every  empty  hand  ; 

That  though  a  man  may  rise  to  his  full  height, 


DEMOCRACY.  97 

To  lend  her  momentary  aid,  she  knows 

To  put  him  straightway  from  material  sight, 

Till  man  no  longer  shall  a  man  oppose  ; 

That  there's  no  sceptre  save  the  unc.logged  arm, 

Nor  any  crown  but  that  which  fits  all  heads 

With  equal  grace-— reflects  to  none  a  harm, 

Hut  glory  of  enfranchised  eyes  instead, 

And  bounds  dominion  by  its  circling  line  ; 

That  Freedom  is  the  light  of  the  Divine, 

The  soul's  true  gladness  and  its  starry  glow  ; 

That  man  should  pause,  if  Freedom  may  not  go  ; — 

Should  scorn  a  seat,  though  gods  should  pass  the  place, 

If  he  might  not  be  free  to  turn  away  his  face. 

Yet,  ( )  thou  godess,  one  ignoble  art 

Thou  teachest  !  for  thou  goest  among  those 

Who  gather  up  the  overflow  of  Nature's  heart  ; 

Who  watch  whene'er  the  careless  hands  unclose, 

And  drop  their  holdings  ;   and  who  stealthy  catch, 

With  ready  basins  and  expert  dispatch, 

The  very  drops  which  fall  from  lips  that  praise 

The  sweet  elixirs  of  laborious  days  : 

To  such,  and  to  the  ones  who  save  with  greed, 

The  flying  atoms  from  the  sharpening  blade 

Of  effort  'gainst  the  whirling  stone  of  need, 

Thou  sayest  a  thrifty  word,  and  givest  aid 

To  count  and  to  divide  the  shameful  gains  : — 

Oh  !  show  not  thy  white  fingers  lasting  stains:1 

Better,  O  stooping  one,  hadst  thou,  instead, 


!>8  DRMOCRACY. 

Called  up  a  flood  at  close  of  every  day, 

Wakened  a  whirlwind  from  its  spiral  bed, 

And  washed  and  blown  the  stained  hoard  away  ! 

()  Democracy,  reclaim  this  erring  crowd  ! 

Show  thyself  to  them  in  thy  pristine  might  ! 

Unfold  the  grace  wherewith  thou  art  endowed  : 

Raise  thy  majestic  form  to  its  full  height  ! 

Set  straight  thy  struggle-torn,  disorded  dress  ! 

Take  up  the  symbol  of  a  human  heart 

Carven  from  gold  and  purged  of  its  distress, 

Which  lies  upon  the  ground  there  where  thou  art, 

And  very  near  thy  feet  !     Sing  thou  again  ! 

()  sing  of  Joy  and  Truth  and  Love  !  explain, 

That  joy  is  like  a  sea  whose  tides  do  dash 

On  the  broad  beaches  of  a  race,  and  not 

On  capes  of  favored  beings  crash  ! 

( )  take  from  off  man's  heart  Fear's  fingers  hot, 

And  turn  its  tremors  to  the  pleasant  thrill 

Of  music  !  Show,  that  though  Joy  counteth  hearts, 

Whene'er  she  opens  her  fine  treasuries, 

Nature,  more  wary,  counts  but  honest  hands. 

Ere  she  permits  the  lessened  gifts  to  pass  : 

And  say  or  sing  where  Nature  doth  conceal 

The  gathered  glories  of  fecundate  time, 

Which  she  ordaineth  never  to  reveal, 

Till  all  men  gather  in  some  gentle  clime  : 

And  round  the  spot  a  perfect  circle  shape, 

Lest  one  small  gap  should  let  the  whole  escape  ! 


THE  SUBJECT  SPIRIT. 


A  spirit  was  captured  when  Love  kept  guard 
( )n  the  marge  of  her  fair  free  world  alone, 

And  the  secret  pass  was  left  unbarred 

Which  led  where  the  seat  of  her  empire  shone. 

The  fetters  were  fixed  ere  she  was  aware, 

While  the  rare  sweet  song  on  her  lips  fell  dead, 

And  fancies  of  wondrous  nights  in  air 
Sank  in  the  deeps  of  her  heart  like  lead. 

All  the  symbols  of  self  were  snatched  away, 

With  the  wonderful  things  her  hands   had  wrought 

In  the  fading  sheen  of  each  passing  day 

To  the  beauteous  mould  of  her  easy  thought. 

From  her  form  was  taken  her  delicate  dress, 

Which  but  bodied  the  glow  of  her  inward  grace, 

And  the  only  screen  to  her  dumb  distress 
Was  the  common  garb  of  a  servile  race. 

And  her  captors  in  haste  conveyed  her  far, 
To  a  place  where  gloomiest  vapors  roll, 

Where  her  home  was  built  'neath  a  baleful  star, 
Under  the  arch  of  a  single  soul. 


100  THE  SUBJECT  SPIRIT. 

'Twas  a  wondrous  dwelling  of  substance  fine, 
Of  a  changeful  form  and  a  fickle  hue, 

With  as  many  rooms  in  its  strange  design 
As  the  heart  has  places  for  pleasures  new. 

But  the  house  was  empty  except  for  one 

And  the  shadows  which  his  choked  heart  did  spill 

For  the  structure  was  built  by  his  hands  alone, 
And  was  girded  around  by  his  single  will. 

And  this  ghostly  house  where  she  dimly  dwelt 
With  the  lord  she  served  with  abased  head, 

Would  dilate  with  the  leave  of  its  magic  belt, 
Or  shrink  to  the  smallest  space  instead. 

Hut  expand  or  diminish,  however  it  might, 

The  bounds  of  her  slavery  never  were  crossed  ; 

And  the  sway  of  another  to  her  seemed  right, 
Since  the  way  of  a  separate  life  was  lost. 

( )h  !  a  piteous  sight  was  this  helpless  slave, 
As  she  flitted  about  in  an  aimless  way  ; 

Hut  only  advanced  where  her  master  drave, 
And  only  remained  where  he  bid  her  stay. 

Yea  !  her  hand  in  the  wake  of  his  own  hand  moved, 
And  her  deed  was  his  doing,  while  ever  his  need 

Hut  her  own  need  unto  her  dim  thought  proved, 
And  her  pain  with  his  own  pain  fully  agreed. 


THE  SUBJECT  SPIRIT.  HH 

Her  voice  only  filled  the  old  mould  of  his  speech, 
And  the  dross  in  the  draught  of  his  eyes, 

Alone  fed  the  eyes  the  blank  days  did  leech 
With  the  drouthy  lips  of  a  false  sunrise. 

If  alone  she  was  left  with  her  phantom  household, 
While   he    flung  his  glad   heart  'gainst  the  upper 
most  sky, 

With  a  wild,  free  wing  and  a  joy  untold, 

Her  own  wings  quivered  she  scarce  knew  why. 

His  exhausted  emotions  revived  in  her  heart, 

And  she  fondly  believed  her  own  heart  was  alive  ; 

And  the  music  that  from  his  tense  being  did  start, 
To  repeat  on  slack  strings  she  did  strive. 

There  is  such  a  delight  in  a  soul's  free  play, 
That  one  is  not  sad  who  can  merely  repeat 

The  motions  that  picture  that  consummate  way, 
And  the  mere  imitation  seems  wondrously  sweet ; 

Just  as  if  some  imperial  flower  should  grow, 
Whose  shadow  itself  was  a  dim,  dusky  bloom, 

And  sent  from  the  wells  of  its  half-smothered  glow 
The  delicate  hint  of  a  subtle  perfume. 

Xow  had  passed  a  long  time  since  a  prisoner  came 
This  weak,  wronged  soul  to  her  prison-house  wierd, 

And  she  lovlier  grew  notwithstanding  her  shame, 
And  unto  her  liege  more  and  more  was  endeared. 


102  THE  SUBJECT  SPIRIT. 

For  'tis  easy  to  love  what  resideth  so  nigh 

To  the  love-beating  heart,  that  its  echoes  return 

The  loud  stroke  of  self  with  each  lover-sweet  cry 
Which  leaps  from  the  heart  which  has  self  yet  to 
learn 

His  love  was  as  sure  her  own  love  to  find, 

As  the  rainbow  is  sure  to  come  up  with  the  rain, 

For  it  bowed  but  the  mists  of  his  masterful  mind, 
And    its  hues    were    entwined    like  the    links  of  a 
chain. 

But  the  world-heart  true  has  a  world-old  cure 
For  a  heart  enslaved  and  a  heart  that  sways, 

And  the  time  soon  comes  when  it  will  not  endure 
That  a  lie  shall  discolor  the  deeps  of  the  days. 

Then  she  sends  her  tides  which  are  christened  death  ; 

The  white,  keen  tides  which  dissolve  all  deceit, 
And  turn  to  the  stuff  of  the  lightest  breath 

The  bonds  that  her  truth  and  her  love  defeat. 

And  these  tides  arose  on  this  mateless  pair, 

And  the  shadows  shrank  and  the  falsehoods  fell, 

Till  between  the  flood  and  the  crystal  air 
Were  two  naked  souls  and  a  broken  spell. 

Then  at  first,  like  to  two  leashed  darts,  they  fly 
Straight  up  from  that  silent  and  waveless  waste, 


THE  SUBJECT  SPIRIT.  103 

And  the  ether  new  sang  a  sweet  reply 

To  the  rhythmic  beat  of  their  wings  of  haste. 

For  a  million  of  leagues  ever  forward  they  flew, 
Hut  no  place  of  repose  did  they  anywhere  find, 

And  fatigued  near  to  fainting  then  both  souls  grew, 
Hut  especially  she  of  so  gentle  a  mind. 

Now  a  flash  !  and  a  new  world  lies  in  their  sight  ; 

The  spontaneous  child  of  immaculate  stuff 
So  refined,  that  to  quicken  it  into  the  light, 

The  percussion  of  angelic  wings  is  enough. 

The  purged  air  might  have  given  it  birth, 

For  'twas  light  as  the   foam  which  the  waves  dis 
perse, 

And  embodied  the  grace  of  the  rarefied  worth 
Which,  diffused,  doth  fecundate  the  universe. 

Quickly  thither,  aweary,  the  fugitives  turned, 

With  their  long-lonely  hearts  newly   peopled  with 

hopes, 
And  their  eyes  some  ineffable  essences  burned 

That  escaped  from  the  sheen  of  that  world's  won 
drous  slopes. 

All  at  once,  there  was  woe  for  that  voyaging  twain; 

In  their  faces  the  force  of  a  sudden  storm  blew  ; 
And  it  rose  to  a  blast,  and  their  struggles  were  vain, 

For  the  new  world  bade  them  to  wander  anew. 


104  THE  SUBJECT  SPIRIT. 

And  apart,  and  as  dead,  they  were  carried  away. 

By  the  winds  that  sprung  from  that  tenantless  world, 
With  their  sad,  shining  wings  all  in  disarray, 

And  their  white  breasts  up,  they  were  therefrom 
whirled  ; 

And  were  left  to  drift  in  the  vast  unknown, 
Past  the  drifting  moon  or  a  fixed  star, 

Till  received  on  some  sphere  of  a  lower  /one, 
They  might  live  again  in  that  world  afar. 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH. 


"For  Anthony,  my  husband,"  was  inscribed 

The  packet  found  upon  the  woman's  breast, 

When  women  came  in  prompt  apprenticeship 

Of  death,  to  dress  her  fitly  for  the  grave  ; 

And,  underneath,  was  added,  "To  be  read 

At  once,  and  placed  again  where  it  was  found." 

Within,  the  wretched  man  first  read  these  lines  ; 

"O  blameless  man,  true  friend,  wise  counsellor, 

Look  once  upon  the  face  that  thou  has  loved, 

After  the  truth  is  known,  and  in  the  white, 

Soft  splendor  of  thy  heart's  benignity, 

Let  the  dark  flake  of  this  my  secret  sin 

Be  melted  and  consumed  ;  or  if  thou  must, 

Still  yet  recall  from  that  white,  helpless  face 

All  the  fond,  faithful  looks  which  thou  has  let 

The  lie  there  snare  from  thee,  lest  there  remain 

Some  little  spot  not  false,  some  slightest  trace 

Of  olden  smile  upon  it,  to  front  God  with. 

Thou  thoughtest  not  when  thou  assuringly 

Didst  kiss  the  last  breath  forth  from  these  weak  lips- 

For  so  I  see  my  life  shall  pass  away — 

That  thou  didst  sow  a  seed  in  that  black  ground, 


106  THE  WHOLE  TRUTH. 

From  which  should  spring  such  bitter,  blighting  words 

As  are  here  writ.     But  nay  !  it  is  not  so  ; 

Though  I  being  dead  yet  speak,  I  speak  not  now 

With  lips  that  have  learned  phrases  or  bestowed 

Translations  of  the  heart's  black-letter  past 

To  false  impression  of  new  happiness  ; 

But  I  do  now  announce  the  very  soi/I, 

As  one  deprived  of  every  earthly  thing, 

And  standing  in  the  single  element 

Of  higher  worlds  where  nothing  doth  exist 

Whereby  a  falsehood  may  be  signified." 

Here  followed  a  long  space  unwritten  on, 
As  though  she  fain  would  let  his  fancy  build 
A  gradual  stairway  of  his  rising  dread 
Unto  the  awful  heights  of  her  next  words. 
The  following  sheet  began  abruptly  thus  : 
"Love  is  a  ball  of  shrouded  fire  let  down 
Invisibly  between  love's  candidates  ; 
Thy  subtle  instincts  only  gave  thee  power 
To  draw  the  covering  from  the  side  towards  me, 
So  that  dark-lanternwise,  it  only  shone 
Upon  my  heart,  and  left  thine  own  obscure. 
Thou  couldst  but  sing  the  morning  song  of  love  ; — 
The  sun  rose  later.     Thou  couldst  early  wake 
Love's  angel  tented  o'er  the  quiet  heart, 
But  she  did  waken  blind,  and  did  mistake 
Thy  hand  for  that  of  her  true  mate,  until 


THE   WHOLE   TRUTH.  107 

One  came  who  touched  her  eyes  to  sight. 
I  have  not  truly  loved  thee  any  time  ; 
That  which  we  thought  was  love  has  only  been 
The  soul's  rise  to  the  gauge  of  custom,  not 
The  tide  profound  that  drowns  material  things. 
Yet  in  these  days  of  doubt  and  weariness, 
Seeing  thy  goodness  round  me  everywhere, 
Sometimes  I  almost  have  believed  that  love 
Showed  not  within  the  white  light  of  thy  life, 
Because,  star-like,  it  could  be  seen  to  shine 
But  in  the  evening  of  a  darker  nature. 

After  our  marriage  there  was  calm  accord, 
Sweet  fellowship  and  even  happiness  ; 
For  happiness  doth  build  on  level  floors 
Of  such  concomitance,  and  not  on  slopes 
Of  superposed  or  far-receding  aims. 
And  in  this  wise  two  quiet  years  passed  by, 
Like  white  swans  on  a  quiet  stream  ;  the  third — 
That  was  a  white  swan  too,  but  wondrously 
Sheeted  with  bleachen  flame,  and  thrilling  all 
The  upper  air  with  daring  feats  of  flight, 
Until  it  seemed  it  must  have  surely  found, 
In  that  etherial  world  of  buoyancy, 
Some  upward-flowing  stream  of  blessedness, 
And  on  its  mounting  currents  of  delight, 
Followed  its  shadow  heavenward  ;  for  that  year 
Came  he  of  whom  I  now  must  truly  write. 


108  THE  WHOLE  TRUTH. 

A  spirit  with  a  strange  and  potent  spell, 
That  may  be  used  but  once  ;  a  deity 
Who  shows  his  ichor-veined  breast,  his  arms 
Force-tissued  out  of  lights  incomparable, 
And  world-empictured  palms  to  one  marked  soul  ;- 
That  is  a  lover,  when  that  common  word 
Slips  from  its  rags  of  use  and  shows  pure  flesh. 
'Tis  one  that  shows  the  old  divinity 
Is  stronger  than  the  new  humanity. 
Such  seems  me  that  I  had.     When  first  he  stood 
Inside  the  room  where  I  sat  silently, 
It  seemed  he  was  a  messenger  for  me  ; 
And  I  felt  wronged  when  he  looked  not  my  way, 
But  spoke  to  others  unconcernedly. 
Yet,  as  he  talked,  the  fairy  oars  of  speech 
Sent  subtle  ripples  through  the  sea  of  sound 
To  my  ears  only — music's  mysteries 
And  fine,  delicious  sympathies. 
Later,  when  he  first  spoke  to  me,  it  seemed 
There  was  a  sudden  light  turned  on,  and  through 
The  cavern  world,  wherein  I  long  had  lived, 
Went  myriads  of  sprites  along  the  walls, 
Waking  embedded  gems  ;  while  I  thought  speech 
Had  ne'er  before  been  put  to  such  a  use, 
But  like  some  strange  utensil  of  the  gods, 
Left  carelessly  on  earth,  grotesquely  false 
Had  been  men's  doubtful,  childish  touch,  until 
The  wonder  fell  into  his  hands,  and  now, — 
The  true  intent — right  touch,  and  thus 
The  miracle. 


THE   WHOLE   TRUTH.  109 

I  will  not  try  to  trace 
The  days  that  followed,  nor  make  visible 
The  different  beauty  of  each  passing  face  ; 
I  ,et  this  be  all ;  with  song  and  seraph  voice 
Kach  did  announce  to  my  enraptured  heart 
The  new  force  thrilling  through  the  universe. 
Either  the  world  sank  round  it,  or  my  soul 
Rose  lightened  of  some  coarser  element  ; 
I  felt  as  though  some  secret  agency 
Was  working  'gainst  the  earth's  attractive  power ; 
The  sun  and  stars  seemed  forcibly  to  draw  me  ; 
The  light,  free  winds  and  wonders  of  the  air 
Did  make  me  of  their  moving  company. 
Before,  I  had  enjoyed  some  little  things  I  had 
Close  pressed  against  my  claim- declaring  heart : 
But  now  was  all  diffused  and  wholly  free, 
Yet  was  the  whole  enjoyed  unceasingly  • 
And  day  became  all  sunrise,  and  the  night 
Was  daylight  starred. 

There  was  a  strong  soul  near 
To  hold  mine  own,  invincibly,  against 
The  void  around,  wherein  the  single  soul, 
Unless  so  hedged,  is  ofttimes  dissipate. 
Here  was  the  one  thing  I  so  oft  had  lacked  ; — 
The  close  quicksilver  to  the  pure  glass 
Of  being,  making  it  a  mirror  which 
Reveals  that  coy  and  covert  wonder,  Self. 


110  THE   WHOLE   TRUTH. 

Blame  not  o'ermuch,  if  in  this  vivid  life 
Of  our  two  spirits,  so  precisely  set 
In  correspondence  that  each  lightest  thought 
Was  echoed  back  in  happy  emphasis, 
That  the  plain  utterance  and  attributes 
Of  others  not  so  surely  re-inforced, 
Should  be  but  faintly  felt  and  soon  effaced. 

But  slowly  did  a  change  grow  manifest ; — 
A  change  so  fine,  impalpable  indeed, 
That  twilight's  rare  and  subtly-moving  mists 
Could  scarce  have  noted  it  by  sorcery. 
Would  a  cloud's  shadow  weight  a  swallow's  wing, 
And  make  a  serious  accident  of  flight  ? — 
So  little  was  our  coming  ill  first  felt. 
It  must  be  that  some  faculty  of  love 
Is  baffled  in  our  mortal  atmosphere, 
Ere  Imitation  can  find  any  room 
To  set  her  earthly  mirrors  in,  and  fling 
Into  the  mingled  lucence  of  two  souls, 
Dim,  haunting  shadows  of  the  incomplete  : — 
Hints  of  the  human,  common,  fallible, 
And  maddening  phantoms  of  the  world's  wild  way, 
The  bond  was  not  so  close  that  foreigners 
Crossed  not  the  boundaries  of  our  crystal  world, 
But  rather  were  brought  in,  because  of  want 
In  our  own  fairy  populace  ;  while  these 
Were  driven  forth.     It  seemed  my  lover  now 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH.  Ill 

Was  not  content  with  all  our  love  had  stored 

In  secret,  in  the  heart's  pure  cabinets, 

But  did  require  the  meaner  pleasure,  too, 

Of  boldly  spending  all  again.     But  this 

I  saw  not  then,  nor  truly  did  he  see. 

One  day  you  left  me  unexpectedly  ; 

And  when  he  came  again,  a  different  look 

He  gave  me,  and  his  face  was  strangely  changed  ; 

No  more  his  looks  did  join  themselves  to  mine, 

That  both  might  turn  in  double  power  toward  Heaven, 

But  they  opposed  them, — stopped  abruptly  there, 

As  though  their  faulty  aim  was  fully  reached. 

His  glowing  eyes  seemed  set  in  emptiness — 

So  great  the  longing  in  them,  and  his  face 

Did  pale  and  slowly  unto  whiteness  turn, 

As  though  the  soul's  white  light  must  gradually 

Be  all  transferred  to  it,  before  he  dared 

To  speak  the  new  word  growing  in  the  lips. 

And  thus  the  word  was  spoke  :  one  day  he  came 
And  stood  long  time  in  silence  by  my  side, 
Then  forced  the  fierce  words  forth  unwarningly  : 
'Jfe  has  the  whole  of  life,  give  me    one  i/av.'1 
I  rose  and  stood  away,  but  instantly 
He  fell  upon  his  knees  in  front  of  me, 
Crying  'One  day  !  one  day  !  one  day  !'     But  I 
Would  hear  no  more,  and  ran  from  him  in  fear  ; 
And  hid  myself;  and  saw  him  not  for  days. 


112  THE   WHOLE   TRUTH. 

But  ever  was  I  closely  canopied 

With  echo  of  that  sad  conjuring  cry  ; 

Yea  !  it  was  writ  upon  the  walls,  and  la}' 

Upon  the  floor  to  thrill  my  very  feet 

Whene'er  I  walked.     Some  wi/.ard  wall  did  shut 

This  one  thought  from  all  other  thoughts,  until 

It  seemed  a  burning  island  in  a  mental  waste, 

And  only  one  could  build  the  saving  mole, 

To  bind  it  back  unto  the  continent 

Of  universal  thought  and  sanity  ; 

And  he  was  ever  at  my  door  in  wait. 

But  quickly  will  I  tell  the  rest  that  fell  ; 
Disguised  I  met  him  e'er  the  day  was  near, 
And  rode  afar,  before  the  glowing  moon 
Had  coyly  put  her  morning  wimple  on  : — 
Rode  swiftly  down  the  eastern  slopes  of  night 
And  up  the  grand  crescendo  of  the  dawn, 
Until  we  reached  an  unknown  wood,  and  there 
Upon  its  margin  did  await  the  day. 
Then  spoke  he,  and  his  sweet,  expressive  eyes 
Did  seem  to  follow  all  his  forceful  words 
To  my  heart's  door,  as  might,  in  sooth,  attend 
Some  holy  handmaids  on  divinity. 
'For  this  one  day,'  he  said,  'I  would  that  thou 
Shouldst  love  me  only  and  exclusively, 
Until  all  other  loves,  all  other  men, 
The  world  itself  to  misty  softness  turn, 


THE   WHOLE  TRUTH. 

Becoming  but  the  unseen  fragrance  shed 

From  out  the  visible,  red  rose  of  love. 

Then  I  will  show  thee  my  heart  openly, 

And  I  will  teach  thee,  sweet,  to  reconstruct 

The  world  in  quivering  forms  of  its  own  longings.' 

Then  as  the  sun  was  rising,  tenderly, 

With  smiles  he  mooted  where  the  day  began  ; 

Whether  the  place  might  be  the  upper  rim 

Of  the  sun,  or  lower;  whether  her  first  flight 

Was  over  or  beneath  that  burning  sphere  ; — 

One  doubting  moment — then  we  faced  the  wood. 

At  midday,  looking  through  the  trees,  he  said, 
'See  how  the  sun  doth  aid  the  stooping  day, 
Lifting  the  arches  of  her  crystal  cave, 
That,  standing  at  full  height,  her  haloed  head 
May  touch  the  mark  of  noon.'     At  night  he  said, 
Watching  the  sun  go  down,  'See,  as  he  sinks, 
That  quick,  black  dragon  of  the  sea  of  night 
Leaps  upward  fiercely  to  his  drooping  breast.' 
And  speaking  so,  his  last  kiss  likewise  sank 
Helow  the  flushed  horizon  of  my  lips, 
Which  nevermore  in  all  my  life  should  glow 
With  passage  of  those  burning  spheres  of  love, 
Sun-risen  in  his  heart,  sun-set  in  mine. 
I  saw  not  that  they  soon  should  rise  again, 
Ejected  from  the  sickened  heart,  and  stained 
With  its  red  blood,  like  dreadful  portents,  cross 


114  THE   WHOLE   TRUTH. 

The  dull,  bare  skies  of  hateful  after-days, 
In  cruel  iteration  of  my  sin. 

What  need  to  speak  of  the  return?     What  need 
To  speak  his  name  ?  he  named  himself  anew 
For  that  one  day,  and  swore  his  old  name  was  not  fit 
To  mate  with  such  a  joy  ;  and  called  the  new 
To  Heaven,  that  in  the  first  amaze  of  death 
He  might  be  greeted  by  it,  and  so  caHed  forever. 

Being  at  home,  at  first  there  was  no  change  in  me  ; 
You  came  not  back,  my  lover  came  not  near. 
The  life  within,  still  heavy  and  o'ercharged 
With  dangerous  chemic  fulminants  which  gave 
Explosive  splendor  to  it,  still  controlled, 
As  stronger  than  the  steady  light  outside. 
That  lawless,  daring  day,  too  large  at  first, 
Dilated  with  the  growth  of  time,  until 
It  seemed  'twould  ever  dome  the  temple  built 
Of  common  days,  and  through  its  riot-wrought 
And  crystal-prisoned  hues  and  traceries, 
Give  colors  and  delicious  light  to  life. 
But  'twas  a  day  misplaced  and  overstrained 
With  burden  of  too  strong  significance. 
One  day  alone,  can  crown  the  whole  of  life, 
And  that,  the  last,  which  Death  shall  hold  for  us, 
And  help  us  work  our  final  fancies  on. 

My  lover  came  not  near,  and  it  grew  hard 
To  hold  that  magic  vault  of  interwoven  joys 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH.  11 .-, 

Above  the  single  pillar  of  my  heart, 

The  other  fair  and  fellow  column  gone. 

Each  morning  was  the  waxing  of  a  hope, 

Each  night  its  withering  ;  the  full  world  shrank 

Around  my  spirit's  sad  impoverishment ; 

The  sun  rose  dwarfed  above  the  lowered  hills, 

For  want  of  him,  and  every  sweet  of  day 

Was  lessened  by  the  absence  of  his  face  ; 

And  everything  in  Nature's  catalogue 

Of  dear,  delicious  beauties,  seemed  to  bear 

A  broad,  black  scar,  where  erst,  incorporate, 

The  increase  of  his  radiant  image  lay. 

Dimmer  the  world  grew ;  now,  no  more  the  light 

Was  strong  enough  to  show  the  finest  shapes 

Hiding  behind  the  garments  of  the  visible  ; 

And  those  fair  phantoms  of  imagined  glory, 

Created  by  the  double  working  force 

Of  interblending  spirits,  now  recoiled 

And  faded  in  the  far,  unfollowed  glooms. 

The  earth  was  at  my  door  !  and  he  who  first 

Had  closed  the  golden  bolt,  had  gone  away 

And  left  the  fatal  door  unbarred,  and  me 

Defenceless  from  the  rough  intruder  there. 

Sometimes  I  would  not  watch,  remembering 
How  unannounced  he  first  stood  at  my  side  ; 
And  fancying  that,  soothly,  even  now 
He  was  endeavoring  to  reconstruct 


IK;  THE  WHOLE  TRUTH. 

That  lone  and  devious  highway  of  surprise 

Between  the  hedges  of  my  close-set  looks, 

Which  he  had  laid  before  unto  the  marge 

Of  my  unwatchfulness.     Nay,  then  'twould  seem 

That  only  in  the  common,  open  avenues, 

Could  he  again  come  near  me  ;  all  the  world 

Had  been  transfused  with  our  wild,  burning  love, 

And  there  no  more  remained  the  unseen  things, — 

Illusive  beauty,  dear  obscurity, 

And  shy,  veiled  essence  of  delightfulness, 

To  work  surprise  with,  but  with  bold  acclaim 

Of  every  sentient  thing  and  rabble  cry 

Of  guilty  memories,  would  his  approach 

Be  coarsely  heralded. 

And  then  I  knew 

He  would  not  come  again  ;  that  he  would  wait, 
Till  in  the  fine  and  stainless  elements 
Of  some  new  world,  he'd  work  that  wonder  o'er 
And  find  me  subtly-conscious,  yet  surprised. 
And  then  a  new  mood  mastered  me,  and  gave 
A  new  sign  unto  my  clairvoyant  heart. 
He  would  not  come  again  ;  he  therefore  must 
Be  going  farther  from  me  every  hour ; 
And  all  this  ebb  of  light  and  splendrous  life, 
Was  but  his  footstep  far  within  the  dark. 
How,  what  our  two  souls  had  made  right,  was  now 
A  growing  guilt  to  my  unaided  soul, 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH.  117 

And  could  not  be  enforced  to  radiancy 

By  its  lone  light  !     Oh,  how  inexorably 

Condensed  in  pain  and  resolidified 

The  actual  world  to  old  familiar  shapes, 

Which  had  dissolved  and  been  etherialixed 

In  our  love's  fervency  !     How  far  from  me 

Must  he  have  traveled  certainly,  to  make 

Those  mountains  take  again  material  ways  ! 

How  far,  before  that  bare  field,  half  way  down 

Their  pliant  side,  seemed  not  the  open  page 

( )f  some  Titanic  register,  wherein 

All  floating  wonders  of  the  air  inscribed 

Their  names,  in  passing,  but  again  became 

The  highest  record  of  the  tide  of  toil  ! 

How  far,  before  that  highway  'cross  the  vale 

Let  pass  dim  memories  of  the  common  flood 

That  flowed  there  ere  his  coming  struck  away 

All  footprints  save  his  own,  and  lifted  up 

A  purged  way  towards  the  heavens  !     But  how  far, 

How  very  far,  was  he  before  the  walls 

Of  my  own  room  unveiled  the  pictured  things 

Upon  them,  and  revealed,  close  to  my  eyes, 

Your  portrait  hanging  there  with  life  in  it  ! 

You  tell  me  I  was  sick  when  you  came  home, 
And  that  which  followed,  from  the  hour  I  saw 
Your  face  come  back  unhindered  to  the  wall, 
Was  but  the  natural  sequence  of  the  shock 


118  THE  WHOLE  7^ RUTH. 

Which  flung  the  eerie  flambeaux  of  the  mind, 

From  their  precise  adjustment  with  the  sight 

Confusedly  upon  it.     Yet,  how  small 

The  exposition  for  so  vast  a  fact  ! 

No  !  No  !  for  those  few  weeks  of  earthly  time 

My  soul  was  recommitted  to  the  elements, 

And  lived  out  eons  of  majestic  suffering. 

Ages  I  lay  beside  a  stream  of  fire, 

With  both  stained  hands  plunged  in  to  burn  them  pure  ; 

For  centuries,  my  lips  did  spout  hot  springs, 

And  still  remained  unclean  ;  for  longer  time 

Than  earth's  most  lengthened  records  mark, 

I  groped  through  gloomy  space,  in  wild,  waste  search 

For  something  nameless  but  imperative  ; 

And  every  star  I  neared  grew  dark  and  sank 

As  though  it  were  a  stone,  till  I  would  rend 

My  breast,  and  with  my  fren/ied  fingers 

Tear  away  the  coverings  of  my  outraged  heart, — 

To  let  a  black  stream  forth  which  only  drained 

An  ever-filling  sin,  and  poured  its  fatal  tide 

'Cross  countless  leagues  of  sky  immaculate, 

To  mingle  with  the  Milky  Way  and  turn 

Its  lustrous  currents  to  another  Styx. 

At  last,  upon  some  dread  and  desolate  strand, 

Amid  the  wrecks  of  stars  and  dreary  drift 

Of  noble  enterprises  cast  'gainst  spite, 

It  seemed  that  I  did  die  or  fall  asleep  ; 

The  next  I  knew,  was  you  beside  my  bed, 

Physician-like,  with  fingers  on  my  pulse. 


THE   WHOLE   TRUTH.  110 

How  curiously  I  watched  you  those  first  days  ! 
I  could  not  understand  your  look  of  youth  ; 
Nor  why  you  kept  attendance  at  my  side. 
U'hy  was  your  hair  not  white — as  mine  must  be — 
And  face  all  written  o'er  in  age's  script 
By  age's  shaking  hand?     Why  had  you  still 
A  memory  of  her  who  slipped  away 
So  long  ago  ?     That  clock  upon  the  wall, 
Whose  tick  was  still  so  fresh,— had  it  in  truth, 
For  all  these  years  been  breaking  stony  time 
Upon  the  highway  of  corporeal  change, 
And  still  worked  on  unworn?     It  could  not  be  ! 
But  it  and  you  and  every  earthly  thing 
Had  stopped,  and  waited  till  my  swift  race  ceased. 

Then  all  that  had  been  e'er  my  race  began, 
My  perfidy,  dishonor  and  despair  ; 
All  which  that  weary  flight  through  space 
Had  borne  me  farther  from,  was  new  to  you  ; — 
Was  even  yet  so  new,  perhaps  the  mind 
Had  not  sent  judgment  to  the  waiting  hand  ; 
Nay,  why  not  e'en  so  new  that  no  account 
Had  yet  been  carried  to  the  judging  mind  ? 
( )h,  fatal  power  of  thought  !  only  to  see 
The  new  in  you  did  make  the  new  in  me  ; 
And  on  the  apex  of  the  stalk  of  pain 
My  sin's  red  flower  bloomed  out  suddenly. 
A  sudden  tumult  in  the  brain — Hope's  touch — 


120  THE  WHOLE  TRUTH. 

Fear's  evil  sorcery ;  or  simply  there 
Was  just  uncovered  by  that  passing  flood 
Some  hidden  force  imbedded  in  the  mind  ; 
When  lo  !    there  lay  a  thing  unseen  before  ; 
'Twas  new  deceit ;  I  seized  it  and  deceived. 

First  thought  I  of  that  magic  room  which  you 
Had  left  me  guardian  of  while  you  were  gone, — 
The  chamber  of  our  coupled  lives,  enriched 
With  joint  creations  of  converging  minds  ; 
Now,  like  a  hollow  shell,  it  lay  despoiled 
Upon  that  shore  from  which  love  ebbed  away, 
Holding  but  ghostly  murmurs  of  the  past. 
How  quickly  I  invented  counterfeits, 
To  garnish  over  those  weird,  empty  walls  ! 
Afraid,  that  by  some  subtly-knowing  smile, 
Some  reminiscent  look  or  secret  word, 
You  might  make  quick  demand  of  my  false  heart, 
To  show  some  bauble  of  the  scattered  charge. 
How  cunningly  I  strove  to  cheat  your  eyes, 
And  baffle  all  the  cunning  of  the  heart, 
By  my  assumptions  and  false  attitudes  ! 
Oft-times  I  would  clothe  common  things  in  Love's 
Habiliments ;  say,  'This  and  this  is  Love, 
And  thus  have  I  seen  Love  look  many  times  ; ' 
Maligning  Love  with  false  resemblances, 
Lest  you  might  really  know  how  fair  she  was, 
And  what  a  false  pretender  then  was  I. 


THE   WHOLE  TRUTH.  121 

From  then  to  now  my  aim  has  been  .to  dupe — 
To  break  the  truth  and  shape  the  parts  to  lies  ; 
Hut  every  lie  that  showed  smooth  face  to  you, 
I  )i<l  have  a  sharp  side  pressed  against  my  heart. 
Say,  'twas  not  all  in  vain  !  say  that  from  out 
Those  black  and  biting  mists  of  noxious  thought, 
One  pure  drop  of  joy  was  yet  distilled, 
To  give  you  just  one  moment's  blessedness  ; — 
And  I  will  swear  each  lie  was  very  good, 
And  Heaven  shall  hold  it  e'en  as  righteousness  ! 

Hut  what  shall  I  say  there  about  my  sin, — 
The  love,  and  that  whereto  it  lead  ?     The  love, — 
That  was  of  God  ;  the  error  comprehends 
The  form  it  took.     The  common,  human  mould  ; — 
Who  has  prepared  it  and  concealed  the  thing 
Under  illusion  and  the  subtle  net 
Of  mystic  longings  towards  the  infinite  ? 
I  own  not  that  I  loved  my  love  too  much  ; 
My  fault  was  that  I  loved  him  not  enough  ; 
Our  neighboring  spirits  could  not  quite  burn  through 
The  barriers  of  coarse,  earthly  habitude  ; 
And  through  the  charred  and  shapeless  aperture, 
Caught  only  broken  views  and  fickle  fallacies 
Of  sight,  in  place  of  fullest  revelation 
Of  each  immortal  countenance,  with  all 
Its  true,  divine  expression  unmistakable. 
A  little  more  of  love, — he  would  have  seen 


122  THE   IVHOLE    TRUTH. 

Your  shadow  on  my  face  ;  he  would  have  seen 

Mine  eyes  had  been  indentured  unto  thine 

To  give  them  joy  :  he  had  not  failed  to  know 

That  all  the  twice-enkindled  and  abounding  light, 

Wherein  our  hearts  did  lie,  like  ruby  sprites 

That  bathe  in  floods  of  bleachen  pearl,  should  fall 

On  thee  for  yet  a  little  time,  until 

Thy  heart  did  feel  the  double  love  in  it, 

And  be  advised  thus,  soon  and  painlessly, 

Of  that  full  life  of  highest  excellence 

Which  we  had  found  without  thy  heart's  consent, 

Or  contribution  of  its  slightest  beat, 

Hut  yet  was  drained  of  its  supremest  joys 

To  pay  a  wrongful  tribute  to  thee.     Then 

Thou  hadst  been  fortified  against  the  loss 

( )f  faulty  fellowship,  by  seeing  rise 

The  luminous  shadow  of  the  needed  one 

Thou  wouldst  go  search  for. 

Pardon  me,  lone  man, 
That  I  have  been  but  only  pity's  shade 
Heside  thy  loneliness  !  give  me  this  praise, 
That  there  was  grief  within  my  grief,  because 
Your  heart  did  topple  like  a  leaning  tower, 
Being  unpropped  by  other,  fellow  heart  ! 
(iod  will  not  blame  me  that  I  could  not  love, 
But  that,  what  time  I  loved,  my  radiant  love 
Did  not  so  beat  on  thee,  and  thee  illume, 


THE   WHOLE   TRUTH.  ]2:? 

That  the  fine  lines  of  my  enscriptured  pledge 

Had  not  grown  dim  or  obsolete,  until 

The  rightful  sanction  of  thine  own  free  choice, 

And  magic  of  the  moving  truth  in  thee, 

Did  brush  it  off.     Had  I  not  done  thee  wrong, 

How  easily  !   i  might  have  taught  thee  this  ; 

Had  I  not  shadowed  thee  with  shame, 

How  soon  !  thou  wouldst  have  learned  it  for  thyself. 

Pardon  me  now,  for  truth's  sake,  though  the  truth 
Is  bitter,  being  over-kept  within 
The  airless  damps  of  my  long  reticence, 
And  at  the  last,  mayhap,  is  told  amiss  ! 
Pardon  me  now,  for  love's  sake,  though  my  love 
Was  hatred  to  thine  honor  for  a  day  ! 
He  not  too  wroth,  nor  suffer  over  much, 
Lest  fear  shall  make  me  falter  before  God  !" 

Here  ceased  the  writing,  but  the  reader  ceased 
Not  yet  his  weeping,  though  he  many  times 
I  )id  kiss  the  sheet  with  tender  reverence, 
And  murmured  brokenly,  "Poor  penitent, 
Thy  pardon  is  already  five  years  old, 
And  was  dispatched  to  Heaven  the  very  hour 
I  heard  the  story  from  thy  raving  lips  ; 
Be  thou  assured  !     Too  much  have  I  been  blessed 
Having  the  time-touch  of  so  fine  a  hand  as  thine  !" 


LOVH  IN  THE  LIGHT. 


()  Love,  stand  forth  from  the  midst  of  the  others, 
Who  are  mimicking  thee  with  irreverent  eyes, 

And  the  shadow-gloom  of  whose  hinderance  smothers 
The  light  that  of  right  on  thy  sweet  face  lies. 

But  vermilion  the  cumbrous  shadow  of  one  is, 
And  it  heavily  droops  till  it  lies  in  thy  way  ; 

And  it  clasps  thee  low  down  as  at  earliest  sunrise 

The  low-kneeling  Dawn  clasps  the  white  knees  of  1  )ay. 

Is  it  true,  as  they  say,  that  the  drift  of  the  spirit 

Has  heaped  thy  white  breasts  like  the  sands  on  the 
beach, 

When  the  hot  land-winds  blow  o'er  it  and  sear  it? 

Do  the  bones  of  our  heart's  dead  lie  there  and  bleach  ? 

Nay,  rather  declare,  as  thy  smiling  avouches, 
They  are  sacred  guests  of  thine  innocency, 

Who  are  resting  in  peace  on  their  ivory  couches  : — 
There  are  three  of  you  now  whom  T  see. 


LOVE  IN  THE  LIGHT.  125 

Thine  eyes  are  not  domes  of  the  impious  temples 
Whose  altars  with  sinfulest  sacrifice  reek  ; 

Hut,  instead,  they  are  only  the  sweetest  examples 
Of  holiest  height  and  sun-pointed  peak, 

Where  the  fearless  explorer  easily  rallies 

The  fairy-like  train  of  his  soul's  retinue, 
That  has  lingered  too  long  in  the  slumberous  valleys, 

Where  the  foliage  droops  with  a  sweet-scented  dew. 

1  >ike  ripples  of  wine  in  an  over-filled  beaker 
Are  thy  lips  that  revive  all  that  sickens  in  me  ; 

Not  as  quicksands  are  they  to  the  Infinite-seeker 
Who  is  lured  by  the  pink  shells  cast  from  the  sea. 

Thy  brow  doth  resemble  the  far,  west  horizon 

When  the  sun  has  left  nought  but  his  breath  in  the  air, 

While  another  sun  lays  his  etherial  dyes  on 
The  changeable  mists  interfusing  thy  hair. 

How  thy  breath  doth  dissolve,  like  a  sky-filtered  ether, 
The  smoke-breath  of  Passion  still  near  to  thy  feet  ! 

Which  is  thick  from  the  fires  which  mortals  bequeath  her, 
When  they  die  with  their  heart's  flame  still  incomplete. 

Oh,  how  animate  !  art  thou  though  thou  art  standing, 
And  my  slow  heart  exulteth  to  keep  pace  with  thee, 


l'J<;  LOVF.  IN  TIfK  LIGHT. 

As  thou  trainest  my  feet  to  obey  thy  commanding, 
And  old  'Lethargy  taketh  his  mantle  from  me. 

Elixirs  do  flow  in  the  founts  of  thy  being  ; 

And  thy  heart  is  the  sheath  of  a  delicate  star, 
Which  distilled  fire's  essence  ever  is  freeing, 

And  beating  to  concurrent  galaxies  far. 

How  divine  is  thy  power  !  which  so  easily  foileth 
The  art  of  thy  foes  and  pain's  sharpest  pangs  ; 

And  when  round  us  the  Night  like  a  black  serpent  coileth, 
With  what  cunning  of  hand  thou  d rawest  the  fangs  ! 

And  his  scaly  skin  thy  magic  art  turneth, 

By  an  instant  touch,  to  the  swan's  neck  of  I  )ay, 

Where  supernal  joy  its  white  light  ever  burneth, 
Till  it  seemeth  the  curve  of  a  heavenly  way. 

Of  all  who  have  visited  us  from  a  far  sphere, 
Thou  alone  doth  retain  thy  natural  dress  ; 

And  bringest  the  glow  of  thy  untarnished  star-gear, 
Which  loseth  no  light  in  the  dark  of  distress. 

For  thou  only  couldst  carry  beauty's  vast  burden 

Through  the  measureless  flight  and  the  infinite  space, 

Till  thou  gainest  a  world  for  thy  unequalled  guerdon, 
And  givest  an  infinite  joy  to  a  race. 


LOVE  IN  THE  LIGHT.  127 

And  them  art  become  our  world's  guide  and  pathfinder ; 

And  the  golden  spade  of  thy  office  is  held 
In  thy  firm  right  hand,  as  a  faithful  reminder 

Of  the  highways  unbuilt  and  the  regions  unquelled. 

Hut  an  errorless  map  of  the  heart- country  pathless, 
Thou  dost  hold  in  thy  left  hand  close  to  thy  breast ; 

And  through  desert  or  jungle  thou  travelest  scathless 
To  the  heart  that  faints  for  thy  gentle  behest. 

But  lo,  thou  art  gone  ;  yet,  again,  I  have  found  thee  ! 

And  thy  shadow  I  see  upon  Death's  darkened  wall  ! 
And  I  hear  the  soft  leaves  as  they  rustle  around  thee, 

From  the  other  side  where  thy  singing  doth  call. 


THE  LOST  CLUE. 


Can  sound  be  linked  to  sunbeams  ?  or  the  hearts 
Of  men  be  tethered  to  a  god's  desire? 
Surely,  some  god  hath  passed  too  near,  and  I 
Must  ever  follow,  charmed  and  dreamily, 
As  in  his  wake  the  drafted  stars  might  roll. 
Or  is  this  thought  a  mask  of  madness  only  ? 
May  it  not  be  a  phosphorescent  film 
Over  the  shallow  sea  whereon  1  float, 
Hiding  the  hideous  monsters  of  my  brain's 
Profound  disease,  until  they  are  full  grown  ? 
What  man  before,  so  daring  that  he  scorned 
The  pole-star's  fixed  and  servile  indicator? 
Denied  that  there  was  north  or  south  or  east 
Or  west  to  human  destiny,  but  made 
His  life  the  flaming  center  of  a  bold 
And  radiant  purpose,  which  insphered  in  light 
All  human  kind  ? 

The  lily  of  my  hope, 
It  seems,  had  risen  high  above  its  root, 
And  spread  the  petals  of  its  vast  intent 
Upon  the  waters  of  some  life  divine  : 


THE  LOST  CLUE.  129 

My  thought  has  been  to  do  some  mighty  deed, 

Which  would  include  all  men  in  its  effects, 

And  show  a  man's  full  power  unto  men. 

That  dream  1  had  so  very  long  ago, 

When  [  seemed  standing  by  the  loud  sea's  shore 

And  a  soft,  subtle  voice,  not  like  mine  own 

Nor  issuing  from  the  heavy  lips,  and  yet 

Pulse-driven  from  the  vocal  heart,  did  flow 

Away  from  me  unlessening,  until, 

On-swelling  to  most  distant  worlds,  it  drew 

Sweet  answers  from  them  ;—  was  it  then,  I  ask 

Hut  the  mere  phantom  of  night-feeble  eyes? 

( )r  rather  of  such  stable  elements, 

And  of  such  large  extent  as  fronts  unharmed 

The  full  puissance  of  the  waking  life? 

Where'er  this  purpose  had  its  secret  rise, 

It  now  is  stablished  on  each  sovereign  peak 

And  prominence  of  strong  material  life, 

With  bed-rock  of  experience  underneath. 

1  find  each  man  is  likened  unto  all, 

And  dare  not  doubt  but  that  there  is  a  way 

For  each  to  send  impression  of  himself 

I'nto  the  rest.     And  therefore  have  I  made 

Long  search  among  the  mystic  agencies 

Which,  widely  scattered  and  unused,  weigh  down 

The  glimmering  floors  of  inner  consciousness, 

For  hint  of  that, — the  universal  voice — 

The  universal  deed,  which  I  required. 


130  THE  LOST  CLUE. 

Again,  for  long  hours  have  I,  anxious,  sat 
Beside  the  gate  of  the  L'nseen,  with  none 
Save  those  twin-sisters  who  its  warders  are, 
Silence  and  Solitude,  for  company  ; 
While  they  would  cast  upon  my  quiet  heart 
Their  shadows  lined  with  light  etherial, 
And,  with  a  world-oblivious  touch,  would  close 
Each  open  pore  and  earth-stained  aperture 
Which  might  leak  excellence  ;  but  all  in  vain  ; 
For  I  was  still  unhelped  in  my  design. 
Then  I  have  passed  long  time  'mongst  men  to  watch, 
In  stealth,  their  meetings  and  voice-interchange, 
Habits  of  speech  and  speech's  accidents, 
Contact  of  common  word,  or  the  blind  touch 
Of  unaccustomed  rage  :   for  some  dim  sign 
Of  that  self-ligature  which  leashed  their  thought 
Unto  an  aim  so  near,  or  that  repulse 
Of  counteracting  wills  which  stifled  it  ; 
But  nothing  have  I  gained  save  strength  of  hope. 
And  though  I  still  can  speak  but  brokenly, 
Or  act  but  weakly  as  the  others  do, 
Yet  have  I  found  it  good  to  make  the  search. 


AGAINST  THH  WIND. 

Hear  the  wind  blow  ! 
Let  it  go, 
Bearing  rain, 
Bearing  snow, 
Loss  or  gain  : 
Never  chase  it  ! 
Only  face  it  ! 
Cry,  hollo  ! 

Seek  for  its  source  ! 
Measure  its  force  ! 

It  can  tear 

From  thy  hold, 

But  the  bare, 

And  the  old. 

Still  thou  hast 

What  is  best  :— 
Never  care  ! 

Behind  is  but  drift ; 
Before  a  rich  gift  ; 
Haste  along  ! 
Though  breathless  the  pace, 


AGA/XST  TffE   lfrfj\7). 

There  is  breath  for  a  song 
There  is  heart  for  a  race  ! 
Quicker  meet 
The  new  sweet, 
( )r  the  wrong  ! 

How  flies  from  the  mind 
What  maketh  one  blind  ! 

From  the  heart, 

The  causes  of  fear  ! 

A  fresh  start  ! 
Now  the  end  is  so  near. 

Gods  invite 

Whom  they  smite  ; — 
Give  a  cheer  ! 


A  PRAYER  TO  MORNING. 

Morning,  sole  fugitive  of  earth's  First  Day, 

Who  dwellest  still  in  the  Beginning, 
Between  the  light  and  darkness  hid  away — 

Pursuit  but  feints  and  flushes  winning — 
A  simple  boon  I  ask,  in  simple  lay  ; — 

Waken  not  all  who  now  in  slumber  lie, 

Hut  spare  thou  some,  and,  Morning  pass  them   by. 

What  is  the  charm  wherewith  thou  wakest  man  ? 

Drain'st  thou  the  stars  to  water  his  dry  heart  ! 
Or  do  thine  eyes  which  sunsets  never  scan, 

By  simply  bidding,  make  the  night  depart? 
Whate'er  thy  power  is,  be  this  thy  plan  ; — 

Search  thou  all  hearts  while  yet  in  sleep  they  lie, 

If  some  are  still  aweary,  pass  them  by. 

Sleep  hath  so  brief  a  time  to  work  her  will  ; 

(Irief  works  so  fast,  and  hath  such  lengthened  days  ; 
Though  to  the  sorrows  which  the  heart  o'erfill 

Night  saith  ;   "Ye  are  but  phantoms,  truant  fays, 
Come  !  follow  me  unto  my  home's  dark  sill," 

Yet  shall  some  waking  eyes  burn  as  with  lye  ; 

Morning,  in  mercy,  simply  pass  them  by. 


.-/    PRAYER   TO  MORNING. 

But  there  are  some  who,  wakened,  look  so  far, 

That  day.  seems  but  a  light  spot  at  their  feet ; 
Whose  hearts  are  bruised  against  the  sunset's  bar, 

And  sleep  is  death  unto  some  vision  sweet, 
And  blots  the  hope  of  things  which  never  are  ; — 

To  such,  a  double  gift  do  not  deny. 

Or,  Morning,  show  them  grace  and  pass  them  by 

And,  Morning,  take  thou  heed  !  there  be  a  few 
Who  find  the  flood  of  sleep  a  shallow  stream  ; 

Whose  souls  are  still  erect  as  first  they  grew, 
And  are  not  all  submerged  as  others  seem: 

One  such  I  know  ;  and,  if  thou  dost  not  view 
Some  spot  awake  whene'er  thou  drawest  nigh, 
Then,  Morning,  weep  and  slowly  pass  me  by. 


THH  MODEL. 


See,  how  the  light  refines  itself  upon  her  ! 

As  her  diffusive  beauties  fill  the  air  : 
How  golden  faeries  gather  in  her  honor, 

And  make  a  circle  round  her  charmed  chair 
That,  as  she  chastely  sits, 
No  evil  thing  that  flits 
Shall  come  anigh  her  there. 

Unlike  to  thought  is  her  long  revery  ; 
And  yet  there  may  about  her  cling 
Some  touch  of  Thought's  last  poise  and  spring 

Upon  his  dusty  boundary, 
Which  lightly  sways  her  now — 

A  land-breeze  blowing  her  to  sea — 
While  on  her  peaceful  brow, 
The  growing  glory  of  supernal  scenes 
Slow  supervenes. 

Think  not  that  they  who  purely  trust 

The  eager  vision  of  the  universe, 
See  not  beyond  the  eye  of  lust ; 

Nor  know,  before  they  swift  disperse, 


136  THE  MODEL. 

The  forms  of  free-winged  purities, 

Which  flutter,  shadow-wise, 
Round  secret-holding  eyes, 
Concealing  all  their  ecstasies. 

Nay  !  they  shall  win  in  faery  races, 
And  snatch  the  veils  from  angel  faces, 

Nor  anywhere  be  blind  ; 
For  eyes  not  bent  in  backward  glances, 
A  forward  force  of  seeing  find, 

Which,  past  the  common,  still  advances 
Into  the  land  where  sight  is  unconfined  ; 
Where  holiest  truths  are  ever  common, 
And  sweet  scenes  summon. 

Doth  now  she  see  or  dream? 
From  which  side  of  the  soul 
Do  these  scenes  roll? 
For  it  doth  seem, 

That  as  a  babe  upon  her  mother's  breast 
She  lies  in  infantile  content ; 

And  for  her  nourishment — 
As  beauty's  holy  eucharist — 
That  mother  passes  back  and  forth  her  hand, 
And  wondrous  pictures  in  her  sight  do  stand 
And  while  she  still  is  seeing, 
The  sight  grows  into  being 
Till  she  is  twin  with  her  who  feeds  ; 
And,  sisterly,  they  wander  now  at  will 


THE  MODEL.  137 

In  glorious  meads  ; 
Pass  groves  whose  coolness  has  no  damp  or  chill, 

And  streams  whose  waters  do  so  smoothly  glide, 
That  images  that  fall  there  e'er  abide. 

But  in  her  heart  a  silent  sorrow  grew, 
Because,  among  the  radiant  beings  there, 

Some  did  not  look  on  her,  nor  knew 
Her  presence,  nor,  with  what  despair, 

Her  heart  did  beat  her  beauty  in  their  faces, 
Or  fling  before  their  feet  her  newest  graces; 

Till  near  she  seemed  to  death  ; 
When  her  companion  said  unto  her  :   "See  !" 

And  far  away  she  saw,  with  bated  breath, 
One  coming  towards  her  potently  : 

A  glorious  mien  he  had,  and,  o'er  his  head, 
A  star  bla/ed  which  illumed  his  way  ; 

And  coming  straight  to  her  he  calmly  said  : 
"I  see  thee  as  thou  art,  and,  from  this  day, 

Thou  art  mine  own  and  shall  be  seen  of  all, 
Since  thou  art  seen  by  Love  who  is  perpetual." 

Surely  she  did  dream  ; 
For  now  the  joyous  painter  comes  to  her, 
Holding  a  canvas  whereon  naught  doth  err, 
And  all  her  beauties  beam  : 
"Waken  thou  perfect  one," 
He  said,  "the  work  is  done  : 

See  ! 
I  have  painted  thee." 


AN  ARROWHEAD. 


Sole  relic  of  a  race  which  once  was  here, 

And  broke  earth's  olden  solitudes  before 
A  gentler  people  gained  her  friendly  ear  : 

With  lengthened  histories  art  them  written  o'er — 
Thou  who  wert  wrought  to  bear  in  flinty  text 

A  passioned  moment's  keen  and  forceful  score — 
With  what  hast  thou  death's  dusky  hollows  vexed, 
That  back  upon  the  summits  of  the  world 
These  ghostly  shapes  are  numerously  hurled  ! 

O  wild,  first  children  of  earth's  ecstasies  ! 

Brood  of  a  bird  who  built  her  nest  in  storms  ; 
Whose  lullabies  were  roared  from  off  the  seas, 

Or  thunder-dropped  from  tempests  to  the  arms 
Of  boisterous  spirits  neighboring  in  woods  : 

The  thought  of  you  old  Nature's  heart  new-warms, 
And  calls  her  from  those  calm  and  silent  moods, 

Wherein,  with  finer  forces,  she  doth  now  create 
The  modern  man  who  knows  to  conquer  hate. 

Where  hast  thou  lain  concealed  these  hundred  years, 
Dark  piece  of  flint?  who  bent  the  bidding  bow 


AN  ARROWHEAD.  139 

Which  sent  thee  forth — guide  of  a  flock  of  fears? 

Perhaps  some  fiery  youth  but  made  a  show 
Of  his  new  prowess  ;  or  some  chieftain  hoar 
His  wild  rage  loosened  thus  against  his  foe, 
Who  bore  thee  in  his  heart  to  Pluto's  shore, 

And,  with  a  bow 

Slow-builded  from  a  century's  arc  of  pain, 
Sends  his  kept  hate  back  upon  the  earth  again. 


PEACE  IS  BUT  WEAKNESS  OF  SPIRIT 


Peace  is  but  weakness  of  spirit ; 

Rest  but  the  sleep  of  decision  ; 
Sleep  but  a  death-fall  or  near  it, — 

Divinities'  scorn  and  derision. 

Is  all  your  desire  conceded 

By  the  powers  of  giving  and  keeping  ? 
Your  longing  never  impeded  ?— 

A  road  to  be  traversed  with  leaping? 

Build  thou  thy  bed  at  its  ending, 
On  the  further  side  of  denying  ; 

Rest  there,  and  gods  while  attending, 
Shall  guard  and  hallow  thy  lying. 


MORNING  SONG. 


Wake  !  wake,  my  dreamer,  wake  ! 
Let  Sleep  no  longer  slake 
His  thirst  in  thy  full  heart, 
But,  satisfied,  depart, 
For  my  lips'  sake  ; 
Wake  !  Wake  ! 

Rise  !  rise  '  the  day  is  near  ! 
Long  since,  each  crimson  pier 
Was  built  for  her  pure  arch  ; — 
List  !  hearest  thou  not  the  march 
Below  the  skies  ? 
Rise  !  Rise  ! 

O  let  the  Day's  swift  race 
Begin  from  thy  pure  face  ! 
And  let  that  be  her  goal, 
To  make  my  gladness  whole  ! 
No  minute  waste  ! 
Haste  !   Haste  ! 


THE  BRIDEGROOM. 


Here  I  sit,  locked  safe  in  my  room  again  ! 

How  well  I  have  fooled  them,  priest,  Jack  and  'Light 
By  the  seat  in  the  elm  and  the  uncloaked  pane, 

Was  I  truly  as  one  at  the  rite  ; 
Though  I  marvel  to  think  I  endured  the  strain. 

She  is  mine  and  not  his  by  Love's  own  law, 
Since  her  joy  would  last  if  she  came  to  me. 

Though  for  me  she  thinks  she  cares  not  a  straw, 
Her  eyes  are  so  veiled  that  she  may  not  see 

The  right  of  my  claim  and  his  false  title's  flaw. 

But  I've  married  her  fast  in  spite  of  them  all ; 

Each  promise  I  made  ere  his  slow  tongue  spoke  ; 
And  ere  he  had  slipped  on  her  finger  small 

The  circlet  of  gold,  with  a  mystic  yoke, 
I  had  girded  her  spirit  beyond  recall. 

And  a  husband's  faith  I  will  keep  with  her, 
Though  another  roof  is  above  her  head  ; — 

From  my  chair  this  night  I  will  never  stir, 
Lest  if  once  I  should  lie  on  my  brideless  bed 

Hot  tears  those  magic  espousals  should  blur. 


THE  BRIDEGROOM.  143 

So  here  will  I  sit  and  transmute,  till  the  sun, 
Love's  common  modes  to  immortal  ways  ; 

To-night  must  this  magical  work  be  done  ; 
For  to-morrow  then  and  all  her  future  days. 

Her  perfect  soul  by  such  arts  shall  be  won. 

Let  him  have  her  at  night  then,  if  he  will, 
When  her  eyes  are  closed  and  her  spirit  dull ; 

For  the  days  she  is  mine,  when  life  doth  thrill 
Her  lids  apart,  and  her  heart  is  full 

Of  delights  which  the  brutal  night  shall  spill. 

'The  time  shall  come,  aye  !  it  soon  shall  be  here, 
When  the  subtle  bond  to  her  heart  is  known, 

And  the  truths  of  Love  shall  indeed  appear  ; — 
She  may  dream  some  night  that  she  sees  her  own, 

And  shall  wake  o'er  Jack's  strange  face  with  fear. 

Or  if  not  so  soon  from  her  heart  is  cast 

The  dusk  which  divideth  its  white  and  red, 

Yet  when  Death  shall  call  to  her,  going  past, 
Though  Jack  shall  be  standing  close  to  her  bed, 

As  she  goes,  my  face  will  she  look  upon  last. 


THE  LOST  FLOWER. 

I  cannot  say  how  first  I  knew 

Of  that  lost  flower  • 
Whether  old  legend  left  some  clue, 

In  childish  hour, 

Which  I  have  followed  as  I  grew  ; 
( )r  other  flowers  of  some  great  loss 
Have  whispered  e'en  mine  ear  across  ; — 
Yet  well  I  know  that  once  was  snatched 
From  earthly  fields  a  flower  unmatched. 

And  I  have  heard  or  dreamed  or  guessed 

It  thus  befell. 
That  of  all  flowers  the  first,  the  best 

Of  field  or  dell, 

Was  borne  from  reach  of  human  quest  ; — 
A  mighty  prayer  which  once  was  prayed, 
Like  that  by  Laodamia  made, 
Wrought  this  great  marvel  o'er  the  earth 
And  dimmed  for  after  times  its  worth. 

A  woman  by  her  husband's  tomb, 

In  ceaseless  grief, 
So  sent  her  longing  through  the  gloom, 


THE  LOST  FLOWER.  145 

So  sought  relief, 

That  all  the  flowers  then  in  bloom 
Did,  sorrowing,  with  her  kneel, 
And  urged  her  iterate  appeal ; — 
"Send  him  not  back  along  the  skies, 
Kut  give  one  word  from  Paradise." 

The  gods  were  moved,  but  first  demand — 

Despite  their  cries — 
The  fairest  member  of  their  band, 

For  sacrifice  ; 

And  they  turned  not  that  dread  command. 
Thus  was  there  taken,  for  all  time, 
The  sweetest  flower  of  purest  clime, 
To  be  translated  to  a  word 
Which  by  one  soul  alone  was  heard. 


A  HOMELY  FACE. 


A  homely  face  I  sometimes  meet — 

A  woman's  face  that  should  be  sweet ; 

Pain's  spectral  hand  doth  touch  my  heart, 

And  vague  tones  from  its  hollows  start, 

As  I  pass  by,  with  swifter  feet, 

The  homely  face  that  should  be  sweet. 

Darkly  I  feel,  as  down  the  street 

Some  fairer  face  I  chance  to  meet, 

That  highest  wrong  was  somewhere  done, 

Upon  that  hapless,  passing  one 

(A  wrong  that  'gainst  the  soul  doth  beat), 

Which  homely  made  what  should  be  sweet. 

The  hand  divine  knows  no  defeat, 
And  still  doth  fashion  all  things  meet  ; 
But  what  most  fair  it  doth  create, 
Is  set  within  an  earthly  state, 
Where  beauty  e'er  must  beauty  greet, 
If  fair  shall  last  what  should  be  sweet. 

The  face  starts  fair  ;  but  if  it  meet 
With  life's  coarse  forms  'twill  them  repeat ; 
And  loathsome  labor,  sordid  aim, 
And  hateful  touch  of  deeds  of  shame, 
Shall  make  and  mould  with  cunning  fleet, 
The  homely  face  that  should  be  sweet. 


THE  LEADER. 


Through  toilsome  ways  the  host  moved  on  in  might : 
The  sun  looked  not  upon  their  camp  ;  before 

His  thinnest  wedge  was  slipped  between  the  night 
And  their  dream-laden  hearts,  they  had  once  more, 

With  their  own  force,  the  mighty  burden  raised, 
And  set  fresh  foot  upon  some  dusky  steep  : 

So  late  they  rested,  evening  was  ama/ed, 
And  darkness  wearied,  waiting  so  for  sleep. 

Sometimes  the  query  ran  along  the  line 

"Where  is  the  enemy?  doth  he  wait  or  run?" 

But  when  the  leader  heard  he  made  no  sign 

Still  only  gave  the  stern  command  "March  on  !" 

But  nightly  when  the  weary  soldiers  slept, 
Mysterious  councils  sat  within  his  tent : 

The  silent  courier  to  his  presence  crept, 

And  ere  the  dawn  was  on  new  missions  bent. 

At  last,  upon  a  plain  most  opportune — 
What  time  the  Day,  in  childish  revery, 

Her  sweets  doth  balance  o'er  the  knee  of  Noon— 
The  leader  set  his  men  for  final  victory. 


148  THE  LEADER. 

"Behold  the  foe,"  he  said,  while  from  afar 
Came  sounds  of  singing  and  salutes  of  friends, 

And  soon  a  host  like  to  themselves  drew  near, 
And  every  man  a  friendly  hand  extends. 

Again  the  leader  spoke,  and  on  his  face 
Benignant  smiles  built  garrisons  of  peace, 

And  old  command  was  blent  with  newer  grace  ; 
And  with  his  words  all  lingering  murmurs  cease. 

"A  short  march  leadeth  he  who  finds  a  foe 

For  man  in  man  :  there  is  but  one  long  course  ; 

It  lies  the  way  that  all  mankind  must  go:  — 
Up  !  and  away  again  with  double  force." 


THE  PERMANENT. 

What  thing  shall  last? — 
The  tree  that  slowly  mounts  in  light, 
Till  the  span  of  a  thousand  years  it  shows, 
And  grasps  from  the  last  hour's  blazing  height 
Some  pri/e  it  saw  when  it  first  arose  ; 
More  swiftly  goes  ; — 
It  shall  not  last. 

U'hat  thing  shall  last? — 
Temples  and  monuments  of  eld, 
Symbols  of  faith  both  in  gods  and  men, 
Have  fallen  and  gone  with  the  names  they  held, 
And  perfidy  wanders  where  they  have  been  ; 
Now  darkens  Then  ; — 
These  did  not  last. 

What  thing  shall  last?— 
Tempered  in  flame  and  sure  of  seat 
And  his  granite  brow  in  scorn  left  bare, 
The  mountain  waits ;  but  there  shall  beat 

Time's  change-sharp  moments,  and  shall  wear 
It  past  repair  ; — 
That  shall  not  last. 


150  THE  PERMANENT. 


What  thing  shall  last  ? — 
A  sacred  gift  that  one  day  rose 
From  the  soul  I  loved,  when  my  love  was  told  ; 
A  smile  ?  a  look  ?  Let  him  name  it  who  knows, 
But  it  blent  with  my  being,  and  behold  ! 
Grows  never  old  ; — 
This  thing  shall  last. 


THE  VEIL. 

I  saw  the  bride  in  her  veil ; 

(Where  now  is  the  bride?) 
Yet  was  not  hid  that  face  love-pale, 
Where  timid  smiles  did  full  and  fail. 

(Where  now  is  the  bride?) 

I  saw  the  veil  on  the  bride  ; 

(Where  now  is  the  veil?) 
A  woman  sitteth  weary-eyed. 
With  face  love-bare  and  heart  denied. 

(Where  now  is  the  veil?) 


THE   SOUTH  WINDS. 


From  the  centre  of  the  year, 

From  the  sun-warmed  heart  of  growth  ; 
From  the  toil  of  its  beat  anear, 

The  weary  winds  come  loth  ;— 
Having  no  rest  from  their  year-long  labors, 

Nor  any  release  from  their  fragrant  loads, 
String-voiced  with  a  murmur  of  tabors 

Caught  in  the  long,  slow  forest  roads  : 
1  )own-drooping  with  moisture,  smitten  with  song, 

Come  they  northward  along. 

From  the  depths  of  life  they  spring  ; 

From  the  lips  of  spring  as  breath  : 
From  the  lord  of  earth  their  king, 

Words  of  toil  they  bring  and  a  wreath  : 
For  toil  is  constant  where  they  come  from, 

But  Nature's  toil,  not  man's,  I  mean  ; 
Since  often  man  has  an  idle  palm 

When  Nature  herself  is  busiest  seen  ; 
For  Nature  and  Sloth  seem  there  in  league, 

And  Nature's  toil  is  man's  fatigue. 


THE  SOUTH  WINDS.  15:5 

But  Nature  wearies  towards  the  North  ; 

The  weary  winds,  with  faltering  feet, 
Come  and  draw  the  white  cloth  forth 

From  the  workman's  task  still  incomplete ; — 
They  call  to  the  workman,  "Renew  thy  strokes  !" 

While  the  streams  in  pity  cry  back  "  Hush  !  " 
And  trees  behind  their  masking  cloaks, 

Grow  mute  before  the  wild-birds  gush  ; — 
Man's  sole  reply  is  a  sound  of  tools  ; 

His  sad  heart  owns  that  Labor  rules. 


THE  BLIND  BIRD. 


A  strange  thing  happened  to  me  one  day, 

As  I  walked  afield  in  the  early  May  ; 
I  saw  a  bird  all  in  crimson  and  black, 
Who  followed  with  ease  a  white  bird's  track, 

While  the  white  bird  sang  as  though  leading  the  way, 

The  second  bird,  all  in  crimson  and  black, 
Had  no  song  of  his  own  as  he  followed  the  track, 
But  often  some  strain  of  the  sweet,  singing  guide 
He  repeated  with  awe,  in  a  gentle  aside, 
As  the  tuneful  strokes  of  his  wings  grew  slack. 

But  just  as  he  passed,  all  in  crimson  and  black, 
Fatigued,  to  the  ground  he  fell  downward,  alack  ! 
In  my  hand  I  took  him,  with  piteous  mind, 
And  lo  !  I  beheld  that  my  fair  bird  was  blind  ; — 
My  bird  who  had  followed  the  white  bird's  track. 


SONG. 


When  hand  cloth  touch  a  hand, 

Two  lives  may  greet  ; 
When  folded  lips  expand 
Like  flowers  in  the  sand, 
Upon  the  brows  retreat ; 
Some  words  are  meet. 

Upon  the  fertile  cheek, 

Beneath  the  eye's  fine  heat, 

Lips  sparkle  as  they  speak, 
And  tremble  and  intreat 
For  place  more  sweet. 

WThen  lips  to  lips  make  four, 
Speech  folds  her  wings  ; 

And  Music,  hovering  o'er, 
\Vith  rapture  sings. 


LAMENT. 

Oh,  what  is  the  earth's  endeavor, 
That  it's  work  is  yearly  repeated  ? 

And  what  is  man's,  that  forever 
The  work  of  his  hands  is  defeated  ; 

And  the  goal  he  strives  to  attain 

Must  be  reached  again  and  again? 

O  Labor,  ( )  crudest  Master  ! 

Why  sendest  thy  angels  of  wasting — 
Thy  agents  of  woe  and  disaster — 

Corrupting  the  fruit  at  the  tasting  : 
And  setting  a  term  to  the  plants  of  the  field, 
And  weaving  ruin  with  all  that  they  yield  ? 


MISGIVINGS. 

Like  parting  lovers 

Thy  lips  part ; 
Like  gentle  rovers 

Loth  to  start. 
By  breath  of  passion 

Never  curled  ; 
In  thoughtful  fashion 

Often  furled. 
If  kisses  find  them, 

Like  a  breeze, 
Shall  they  unwind  them, 

If  they  please  ? 
Or  further  bind  them 

In  their  ease  ? 
If  from  their  sleeping 

They  are  stirred, 
Does't  follow  weeping 

Shall  be  heard  ? 
If  love  doth  sever 

Lips  peace-locked, 
By  sighs  and  fever 

Are  they  rocked  ? — 
Shall  it  be  mine 

To  trouble  thine? 


AN  APOLOGUE. 

The  seer  gave  unto  the  suppliant 

A  tender  plant  having  a  double  root ; 

Blessed  him  as  was  his  righteous  wont, 

And  said,  "Plant  well,  and  great  shall  be  the  fruit. 

The  seeker's  prayer  had  been  for  happiness  ; 

This  gift  the  sole  response  the  seer  made  ; 
But  since,  'twas  said,  he  did  all  joys  possess, 

The  suppliant  was  glad  that  he  had  prayed. 

Then  he  departed  thankful  to  his  home, 

And  crossed  his  fields  and  found  a  lonely  spot, 

Where  richest  herbage  showed  the  fertile  loam, 
There  set  his  plant  most  carefully  I  wot. 

With  stealthy  frequency  he  sought  the  place, 
To  watch  the  plantlet's  steady  growth  : 

But  none  he  told  ;  he  would  its  ripening  grace 
For  him  alone — to  pluck  and  feast  on  both. 

A  wondrous  growth  the  curious  plant  revealed, 
And  soon  became  a  great  and  shapely  tree  ; — 

So  great,  he  feared  it  could  not  be  concealed, 
And  some  one  else  its  fairy  fruit  might  see. 


AN  APOLOGUE.  159 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  strong  desire, 

Some  spectral  blossoms  to  its  foliage  came  ; 

They  seemed  like  shadows  of  some  inner  fire 
That  could  not  waken  into  living  flame. 

These  quickly  faded,  and  no  fruit  appeared  ; 

The  foiled  leaves  fell  and  empty  branches  died  ; 
The  man  grew  sick,  as  with  a  fever  seared, 

To  whom  all  cooling  water  was  denied. 

At  last,  in  his  distress,  he  sought  the  sage, 

And  told  him  what  had  happened  to  the  tree  ; 

Hoping  the  wise  one  would  his  pain  assuage, 
By  giving  him  some  magic  remedy. 

"( )  fool  !"  the  sage  responded  to  his  suit  ; 

"The  plant  I  gave  thee  was  a  border  plant ; 
'Plant  well]  I  said,  'and  great  shall  be  the  fruit'  ; 

But  thou  hast  planted  ///and  all  fruit  want. 

Thou  shouldst  have  set  it  by  thy  neighbor' s  bounds  ; 

Its  double  root  asked  food  of  double  field  ; 
It  would  not  make  the  seasons'  weary  rounds 

Unless  some  fruit  it  might  thy  neighbor  yield." 


NO  BEAUTY  THERH. 


Is  there  a  place  where  darkness  doth  not  lay 
Her  dewy  mesh  to  snare  the  earliest  ray  ? — 
Where  plants  stand  ever  bare  of  that  swift-fruit, 
Which  needs  no  aid 
Of  petal-spade 
About  its  root? — 
Then  may  one  say  and  swear 
That  Beauty  was  not  there, 
If  he  would  hope  to  shirk 
All  blame  for  his  poor  work  ; 
That  earth  was  bare 
Of  all  things  fair, 
Where  he  lived  lone  with  care. 

Hath  earth  some  hollow  where  the  air-streams  fail 
And  perish,  that  the  flowers  spread  no  sail ; 
Until  a  vampire  mould 
Consumes  the  fruity  freight 
Stored  in  each  fragrant  hold  ? 

Whoever  liveth  there 

May  say  and  swear 

"It  was  my  doom 
To  see  no  flowers  bloom 

Upon  the  air. 


NO  BEAUTY  THERE.  161 

If  one  hath  never  seen  a  fair  girl's  eyes 
Burning  love-beacons,  till  the  red  waves  rise 

To  put  such  fires  out ; 
Nor  stooped  some  tender  words  to  hear, 
And  stilled  his  heart  for  very  fear 
Its  beat  would  put  them  all  to  rout ; — 
Why,  he  may  urge  the  weak  excuse, 
"There's  nothing  lovely  for  my  use  ; 

How  could  I  work  or  rhyme 

In  such  a  clime?" 

Is  there  a  sky  where  clouds  shall  never  sprall 
In  sunlight's  dreamy  thrall, 
On  seamless,  easy  floors? 

Nor  wake  to  float 

In  lucid  rote, 
A  flush  with  the  joy  that  soars? — 

Then  let  one  loudly  cry, 

"Pardon  each  idle  year  ; 

Art  will  not  flourish  here, 

And  here  live  I." 

Is  there  a  land  where  eyes  can  never  close 
Except  in  sleep,  and  sleep  bring  no  repose  ? 
Where  the  large  spirit  which  the  day  has  filled, 

Has  all  the  flying  views 

Which  entered  at  those  spiral  avenues, 
By  darkness  spilled 


162  NO  BEAUTY  THERE. 

Ere  they  have  rested  wing? — 
"Then  let  one  say  for  doing  nought, 
I  have  lived  there  and  life  has  taught 

No  song  to  sing." 

Perhaps  there  be  some  house  of  sob  or  sigh, 
The  shrinking  stars  will  not  pass  by  : 
Or  pass  refusing 
Their  clairvoyant  musing, 
And  their  holy  attributes? — 
If  thou  dost  dwell  in  such, 
O  silent,  heavy  one, 
Was  there  not  still  the  sun, 
Of  slender,  pleasant  touch  ? 

Or  dost  thou  grope  where  the  communion  light- 
The  universal  speech  of  all  things  bright — 
Tells  not  the  river  what  the  heavens  say  ; 
Tells  not  each  tree  his  brother's  history, 
With  quiet  voice  and  sweet  prolixity, 
Nor  carries  subtle  greetings  far  away  ; — 
Then  mayst  thou  lack  the  poet's  speech, 
And  truthfully  declare, 
"Oh  !  there  was  nothing  fair 
Within  my  reach." 

Or  hast  thou  always  dwelt  in  caves, 
Where  day  about  the  threshold  raves 


NO  BEAUTY  THERE.  163 

To  thy  mad  ears  ; 

Until  the  flowers  that  round  her  gleam 
As  only  Nature's  frothings  seem, 

Through  thy  false  tears? — 
Then  mayst  thou  say  and  swear, 
That  Beauty  was  not  there  ; 
And  thou  shalt  find  excuse 
For  all  of  song's  disuse, 
If  on  thy  darkened  walls 
Her  shadow  never  falls. 


SONNETS. 


SONNETS.  167 


TO  H.  M.  A. 


Friend  of  my  need  !  I  have  not  seen  thy  face  ; 
Yet  distance  hath  not  power  to  wholly  hide 
What  man  thou  seemest  where  thou  dost  abide. 

Strange  things  are  done  within  the  deeps  of  space  : 

Swift  carriers  run  there,  bearing  every  grace 
Which  ever  shone  from  man  beatified  : 
Rare  mirrors  are  there  set  across  which  glide 

The  shadowy  figures  of  a  perfect  race. 

Friend  of  my  heart  !  with  thee  I  have  not  met ; 

Yet  through  the  day,  thy  name  to  me  can  bring 
Such  visions  of  old  saints,  mine  eyes  grow  wet  : 

But  in  the  eve,  it  doth  a  better  thing : 
For  then  it  seems  the  green  branch  of  a  tree 
Which  night  shall  dew  with  dear  expectancy. 


HJ8  SONNETS. 


TO  J.   E.   L. 


Disease,  that,  like  a  curious  child,  doth  break 
The  pebbles  of  our  lives,  hath  broken  thine  : 
And  hath  beheld  the  white-faced  fragments  shine, 
Benignant  in  the  light  of  (iod,  and  take 
Immortal  beauties  for  the  fracture's  sake  : 
As  broken  heavens  of  night  their  stars  resign, 
Which  through  the  day's  completeness  make  no  sign. 
But  rare  the  blow  which  shall  such  glories  make. 
Though  blows  should  shatter  every  life  that  lies 

Upon  the  narrow  beaches  of  this  world; — 
Oh  !  I  would  rather  give  to  some  glad  eyes, 

One  moment  of  thy  gleaming,  then  be  hurled 
Back  to  the  ocean  of  eternal  fullness, 
Than  live,  a  rayless  whole  of  polished  dullness  ! 


SONNETS.  16« 


THE  RUNNER. 


(DIED  JANUARY  2151,   1884.) 

()  wait,  fleet  runner  of  the  unseen  track, 

With  snowy  feet  unsoiled  by  what  they  smite 
So  lightly  in  their  exquisite,  puie  flight  ! 
Wait  for  me  only,  till  I  learn  the  knack 
( )f  running  freely  at  thy  swallow  back  ! 
For  I  am  breathless,  tired,  and  mine  eyes 
Are  so  unused,  dear  one,  to  these  bright  skies. 
'Temper  thy  speed,  that  I  may  never  lack 
Thy  footfall's  singing  sound  ;  nor  fail  at  last, 
To  have  my  heart  beat  so  responsively, 
That  mine  own  feet  may  feel  the  ecstasy 
Of  thine  ;  then  fly  thou  slow  or  fly  thou  fast, 
I  shall  o'ertake  thee,  though  I  fall  asleep  ; 
I  shall  o'ertake  thee  early,  though  I  creep. 


170  SONNE7^S. 


OLD  NEW-YEAR'S  DAY. 


Pale,  patient  day  !  I  doff  the  hat  to  thee, 

In  pity  of  thy  mute  unnoticed  woe. 

Who,  seeing  thee  so  humbled  and  so  low, 
Thinks  of  the  time  when  thou,  sweet  deputy, 
Stoodst  forth  alone  the  New  Year  first  to  see 

And  serve,  as  she  unwound  her  veil  of  snow, 

Flushing  in  all  the  Christmas  afterglow, 
And  glad  efface,  beheld  humanity? 

Now  when  for  twelve  days  she  hath  moved  along 
The  common  paths  of  earth,  hath  seen  joy  die, 
Love  lessen,  wrath  arise  and  dim  the  sky, 

And  with  her  gift  of  life,  men  doing  wrong  ; 

In  mourning  garb,  grief-drawn  and  tear-grimed  face, 
She  first  meets  thee  and  asks  thy  pity's  grace. 


SONNETS.  171 


BRAZIL. 


No  longer  is  there  doubt  !  no  more  disguise  ! 
Thou  who  wert  lurking  in  the  distant  shade, 
Watching  a  farce  by  royal  spectres  played 

On  rotten  boards  of  coffined  monarchies, 

Com'st  forth  at  last  with  mirth  about  thine  eyes, 
The  true  Brazil,  a  fair  and  noble  maid, 
Who  with  the  people  laughed,  with  them  delayed, 

To  show  the  true  way  of  Democracies. 

Men  ask  "  Shall  she  abide?  "  Nay  !  is  there  need 

Of  blood  and  tears  to  charm  thee  to  the  land  ? 

Or  shall  the  people  loathe  a  stainless  hand  ? 
Sooner  than  that  ye  twain  shall  part — take  heed — 

Shall  fires  drink  up  again  their  blackest  smoke  ! 

Or  tumult  mend  all  dreams  it  ever  broke  ! 


172  SONNETS. 


THE  TAKING  TESTS  THE  SONG. 


If  one  would  learn  the  worth  of  his  own  song, 

Its  formal  beauty  and  essential  might ; 

Or  would  behold  with  consecrated  sight, 
Its  place  of  issue  and  the  holy  throng 
Which  still  unto  that  pure  abode  belong  ; 

Let  him  unlock,  with  some  soft,  minor  key, 

That  chamber  of  his  voice  where  his  heart  be, 
And  mingling  with  its  store  the  frequent,  broad  dipthong 
Of  tender  chords  as  sole  accompaniment ; 

Go  sing  to  one  song- deaf  from  very  birth 

The  sorrow  which  constrains  him  or  the  mirth, 
Until  their  spirits  are  sufficient  blent ; — 

Let  him  look  after  at  the  deaf  one's  face  ; 

If  that  is  stirred,  his  song  hath,  surely,  grace. 


SOXNE'J'S.  173 


OPPOSED. 


Two  hapless  spirits  were  as  east  and  west, 

Where,  like  opposing  stars  brightening  their  darts, 
They  sent  the  passion  of  their  scornful  hearts 

Across  the  careless  earth,  peace-lover  blest, 

Stationed  between  and  mightily  at  rest. 
( )  Hate,  why  doth  thy  dumb  immensity 
Divide  so  soon  the  souls  that  angry  be  ? 

Why  must  it  be  so  far  from  breast  to  breast, 

When  their  opposing  beats  give  a  recoil? 

Why  may  no  power  but  Pain  swim  the  abyss? — 

Ah  !  if  the  sound  our  tears  make  when  they  fall 
Might  cross,  or  sighs  repentant  lips  dismiss 

Be  ferried,  somehow,  to  the  other  shore  ; 

Who  knows,  but  souls  themselves  might  soon  pass  o'er? 


174  SONNETS. 


MIDSUMMER. 


This  is  the  balance  of  all  growing  things ; 

And  Nature  now  inspects  her  yellow  scales 

Poised  upon  silence,  and  secure  from  gales  : 
Against  man's  toil  and  care  there  fairly  swings 
The  equal  value  of  his  harvestings, 

In  perfect  plain  of  equal  counter-weight ; 

As  East  and  West  when  skies  immaculate 
Unclasp  each  heavy  cloud  that  to  them  clings. 

The  mute  alarms  of  Nature's  noting  cease  ; 

She  doth  remember  all  the  spring-time  songs 
Which  freely  fell,  and  counteth  their  increase  ; — 

The  scale  dips  gently  to  the  heart  that  longs, 
I-oaded  with  autumn's  overplus  of  cheer, 
With  hopes  fulfilled,  heart-calms  and  courage  clear. 


SONNETS.  175 


BETWEEN  THE  EARTH  AND  SUN. 


i. 
How  many  wondrous  things,  O  sun  !  have  flown 

Between  the  earth  and  thee,  this  ample  day  ! 

How  since  the  morn  hast  thou  diverged  away 
From  earth,  and  tracked  the  morning  stars  alone, 
To  let  them  through  !  At  first,  to  me  was  blown, 

As  yet  upon  my  bed  I  listening  lay. 

A  sound  of  barriers  broken  musically, 
And  living  streams  that  flowed  in  rapturous  tone 
Over  the  shattered  bars.     Before  mine  eyes 

Passed  breathless  birds  with  furtive  signs, 

The  clouds  that  cloaked  their  gradual  designs 
And  airy  marvels  from  o'erladen  skies ; 

While  oft  I  heard  the  whispering,  unseen  throng, 

Whose  robes  left  fragrance  as  they  passed  along. 


176  SONNETS. 


BETWEEN  THE  EARTH  AND  SUN. 


ii. 

O  sun  and  earth  !  the  spaces  that  divide 
Your  shores  are  full  of  radiant  voyagers, 
Heaven-des-erters  and  star-frequenters: 

The  glories  that  upon  your  breasts  abide, 

Are  but  the  wreckage  of  that  sacred  tide — 

Shreds  from  the  garments  of  that  crowded  line 
The  light  is  but  their  banner's  beauteous  shine  ; 

The  winds  but  answer  to  their  onward  glide  ; 

The  varied  hues  that  hourly  fall  and  fade, 
Are  only  flashings  of  their  searching  eyne  ; 
And  heat  the  force  they  cannot  all  confine, 

Since  in  their  hearts  a  boundless  force  is  laid  ; 
Music  is  echo  of  their  onward  flow, 
And  love,  the  subtle,  deathless  undertow. 


SONNETS.  Ill 


MY  SONGSTRESS. 


I  cannot  love  those  birds  of  shallow  song 
And  painful  consciousness,  that  perch  aloft, 
And  lightly,  since  the  sun  is  warm,  the  air  is  soft, 
Rehearse  some  common  melody  so  long, 
The  sleep-curled  ear  heeds  not  the  noisy  throng 
That  beat  its  cloistered  ways  with  pebbly  feet : 
I  hate  those  birds  of  taut,  bow-string  conceit, 
Who  force  afar,  alike  on  weak  and  strong, 
Their  sharpened  strains  ;  but  I  love  well  the  one 
Who  broodeth  mutely  in  the  impatient  air, 
Bridging  all  space  with  silence,  till  most  fair, 
Immortal  songs  get  mingled  with  her  own  ; 
Then  flies  away  to  some  dark  cypress  bower, 
And  softly  sings  as  one  who  counts  her  store. 


178  SONNETS. 


LOVE'S  RETROSPECT. 


i 

When  first  I  walked  before  thy  strange  abode, 
I  marvel  if  the  hollow  of  thy  hand  did  not 
Appall  thee,  with  a  knowledge  then  begot, 

Of  sudden  emptiness  that  seemed  a  load  ; 

Or  yet  if  like  a  many  stranded  goad, 

The  fingers  did  not  meet  the  stricken  palms, 

And  lips  then  startled  from  their  thoughtless  calms, 

With  keen  presentiment  of  another  mode, 

Rend  suddenly  the  fabric  of  a  smile 

Hung  from  their  arches.     Faileth  every  sign, 
Found  in  the  earthly,  seen  in  the  divine, 

If  then  the  runnels  of  thy  heart,  so  smooth  erewhile, 
Paused  not  acutely,  at  a  spasm's  stroke, 
As  if  with  double  currents  they  did  choke. 


SONNETS.  179 


LOVE'S  RETROSPECT. 


It  leads  to  wondering  that  no  wood  or  stone 
Foretold  my  fortune  to  me  ;  that  no  token 
Was  from  the  front  of  that  swift  rapture  broken, 

And  by  some  swifter  wind  to  my  heart  blown  ; 

That  its  dull  reaches  moved  not  for  the  coming  one, 
Like  boughs  that  quiver  at  the  leaping  song, 
As  the  bird  singer  flies  with  joy  along 

To  perch  thereon  ;  that  love  and  love  alone, 

Lacks  visible  beginning,  hath  no  bud 

Upon  the  stalk  of  change,  but  comes  to  all 
In  primal  perfectness  ;  that  each  may  call 

This  vital  wonder  from  his  pregnant  blood, 
And  no  convulsions  rend  him  bodily, 
To  give  it  room  and  progress  to  reality. 


SONNETS. 


TO  A  NOBLE  WOMAN. 


Goodness,  dear  lady,  which  flows  often  dim 
Through  subterranean  ways  of  other  lives, 
Springs  to  the  light  and  pure  refreshment  gives 

In  thee.     But  how  may  I  that  goodness  limn? 

Since  force  of  Springs  by  accidental  rim 
Is  measured  not,  how  fair  soe'er  it  be, 
But  by  the  clouds  which  gather  from  the  sea 

Its  airy  globes  to  strew  with  fingers  slim 

Upon  the  careful  sieve  of  earth.     As  long 
As  seas  shall  toss  upon  their  wakeful  beds, 
And    clouds   shall   watch    beside  their   storm-swathed 
heads, 

To  take  from  open  hands — no  longer  strong — 
Escaping  treasures  ;  shall  thy  good  endure, 
Unmixed  with  brackish  taste,  or  stain  impure. 


SONNETS.  181 


TO  A  NOBLE  WOMAN. 


As  far  as  music  strays  beyond  its  instrument, 
( )r  heat  beyond  the  boundaries  of  flame  ; 
As  far  as  wrong  out-runs  dim-sighted  blame, 
Or  fragrance  springeth  past  the  pure  extent 
Of  flowers  still  closed,  nor  make  the  slightest  rent 
In  their  scarce-wove  apparelings  of  light, 
Or  far  as  beauties  stretch  beyond  the  sight ; — 
So  far,  upon  the  pinions  of  a  pure  intent, 
Thy  goodness  doth  project  its  subtle  force, 
Beyond  the  compass  of  the  living  fact ; — 
Breaks  from  the  word,  out-runneth  e'en  the  act, 
( )'ertaking  too  the  smile  upon  its  course  ; 

And  meets  with  nought  which  shall  not  swift  obey, 
Because  in  thine  own  heart  obedience  lay. 


182  SONNETS. 


TO  A  NOBLE  WOMAN. 


in 

Kindness  enfolds  thy  spirit's  gracious  form, 
As  heaven's  blue  transparency  a  star  ; 
No  drop  of  acid  shall  such  fabric  mar, 
Nor  shall  it  ever  come  to  any  harm 
From  beak  of  flame  or  talons  of  the  storm  ; 
And  Hate  shall  throw  her  vitriol  at  thy  face 
And  make  no  scar  ;  for  to  thy  lofty  place 
Cometh  no  hurt  nor  even  vague  alarm  : 
Secure  thou  restest  where  no  foes  impugn, 

Like  some  fair,  foam-like  cloud,  beheld  at  even, 
Alone,  far  up  the  ample  beach  of  heaven — 
There  where  the  sun  did  meet  the  fatal  noon— 
To  show  supremely  to  our  upturned  eyes, 
How  high  the  lucid  tides  of  day  did  rise. 


SONNEJ^S.  183 


WHITE  CLOVER. 


Ah  !  prim,  pale  sisters,  so  erect  beside 

Your  ruddy  brothers  lounging  lazily  ! 

What  holds  you  ever  in  that  upright  way  ? 
Has  Fear's  white  sceptre  brushed  your  forms  and  dried 
The  stream  of  motion  wholly  at  flood-tide  ! 

But  Fear,  the  leaper,  never  left  your  calms  ; 

The  scattered  realms  he  rules  with  palsied  palms, 
But  in  the  crevices  of  Courage  bide, 
And  they  are  far  apart.     Nor  does  it  seem 

That  Prayer  who  strains  on  tip- toe  for  her  gains, 

Could  show  your  peaceful  poverty  of  pains. 
Methinks  you  went  to  pray,  but  that  a  dream 

Of  maiden  love  displaced  the  prayerful  mood, 

Tinted  the  cheek  and  eased  the  attitude. 


184  SONNE  TS. 


SECOND  CHILDHOOD. 


Bees  circle  round  unopened  flowers,  and  seem 
To  build  new  barriers  about  the  old, 
The  fairy  dwellers  there  again  to  hold, 
When  sunlight's  ransom  doth  their  souls  redeem, 
And  every  curven  rafter,  board  and  beam 
Of  their  pure  prisons,  turneth  to  a  door, — 
Their  marble  walls  bend  backward  to  a  floor. 
Thus  we,  approaching  slow  the  life  supreme, 
Find  sleep  expanding  only  to  a  dream 
By  the  first  rending  of  the  walls  of  sense  ; 
The  full  awaking  and  the  sight  immense 
And  last  inspired  touches  to  the  theme  : 
These  follow  when  we  cross  the  second  line 
Where  playful  spirits  throw  their  shadows  fine. 


SONNETS.  185 


LOVE  SONNET. 


How  doth  thy  flute-toned  spirit  modify 
All  utterances  o'erstrained  that  disappear 
Within  the  rose-rimmed  orifice  of  thine  ear  ! 

Ah,  how  I  long  that  instrument  to  try  ! 

And  blow  the  sounds  of  my  humanity 
Into  that  artery  of  perfect  song 
So  feelingly,  no  heart's  recurrent  thong 

Be  needed  to  give  pulses  or  velocity. 

For  every  tone  should  have  its  central  heart 
Of  passion  and  omnipotence  of  flight : 
Then  would  I  learn  to  touch  each  key  aright, 

That  there  should  issue  forth  but  fair  report 
Of  regions  dimmed  for  holy  mysteries — 
For  love,  for  music  and  mute  ecstacies. 


18G  SONNETS. 


TO 


Thy  worth  adorneth  my  unworthiness, 
As  flowers  of  loveliest  dreams  the  steep 
Environs  of  the  dark  abyss  of  sleep. 
Thy  love's  bright  lily,  like  a  pure  caress, 
Floats  on  the  waters  of  my  life's  distress, 
And  by  the  thread  of  thy  true  womanhood 
Is  holden  to  the  firmament  of  good 
Thereunder  fixed  ;  whilst  from  its  golden  dress 
The  winds  of  hate  but  smooth  each  petaly  fold. 
O  !  sacred  flower,  that  wastest  so  thy  sheen, 
By  ever-watchful  heavens  art  thou  seen, 
And  thought  a  star  unrisen — unforetold, 

Whose  august  path,  as  yet  unbuilt,  shall  rise 
From  earth's  low  levels  to  the  highest  skies. 


SONNETS.  187 


TO 


II 
The  day  that  riseth  from  her  troubled  bed 

Whereby  the  Night  hath  watched,  seems  not  the  same 

That  last  eve  fell  there  like  a  quivering  flame  ; 
The  sun  himself  an  unfamiliar  head 
Each  morning  shows,  and  when  the  mists  have  fled, 

Doth  mint  for  me  new  worlds  by  all  my  ways, 

Fresh  stamped  forever  with  his  changing  rays — 
Wasting  his  wealth  as  heir  to  some  sun  dead — 

The  song-birds  lead  each  year  an  alien  spring, 
Singing  strange  music  of  some  unknown  master 

But  never  friendly  recognition  bring  ; 
But  thou,  O  friend,  in  joy  or  in  disaster, 

More  steadfast  art  than  birds  or  sun  or  day, 

And  turnest  an  unchanging  face  alway. 


188  SONNETS. 


TO 


in 

What,  sayest  thou,  would  my  life  be  without  thee  ? 
Twould  be  the  sun's  ray  falling  dark  and  chill  ; 
A  summer  night  that  would  no  dew  distil, 

Or  summer  morn  with  no  bird  melody  ; 

An  East  that  might  sleep  on  impassively, 

While  passed  the  unfellowed  sun  her  close-shut  gate, 
In  solemn  splendor  and  impressive  state  : 

A  sea  that  should  not  feel  eternally 

A  keeled  foot  or  Morning's  flashing  skirts 
Upon  her  vacant  and  appalling  floors, 
Nor  ever  cast  a  wave  upon  her  hungry  shores  ; 

A  world  where  love  is  deadly,  kindness  hurts  : 

\Vaters  wherein  the  swan  doth  sink,  the  lily  drown, 
And  flowerless  fields  that  look  forever  brown. 


SLEEP'S  STAINED  GLASS. 


This  seems  the  spot  I  laid  me  down  upon  ; 

There  is  the  tree  my  eyes  last  idled  with, 

Awaiting  sleep.     1  think  I  must  have  dreamed. 

()  Sleep  !     ()  wondrous  silver  coronal 

( )f  the  dark-faced  Fatigue  !  Away  !  Away  ! 

I  would  not  wear  the  flashing  circlet  now, 

For  all  the  dreams  that  ever  gemmed  it  when 

It  lightly  lay  on  love's  too-blessed  head. 

Thou  dost  reveal  too  palpably  and  clear 

The  weakness  of  this  heart; — too  soon  dost  show 

The  deep,  dark  hollows  pitting  what  1  thought 

The  smooth  and  perfect  sphere  of  Nature  ; 

And  with  the  raillery  of  demoniac  souls, 

Dost  point  out  all  the  rents  which  mar 

The  garment  of  that  life  I  thought  so  whole. 

What  strange  and  throbbing  sights  I  have  beheld  ! 

1  would  forget,  but  1  am  driven  to  recall. 

It  seems  to  me  that  I  lay  watching  the  slow  sun 
Arch  his  way  downward  mightily, 
When,  suddenly,  a  dusky  vapor  rose 
And  stood  between  us,  and  put  slowly  out 


190  SLEEP'S  STAINED  CLASS. 

Huge,  shapeless  and  unpitying  hands,  which  seized 

His  slender  rays  and  turned  them  back  upon  himself, 

Until  their  whetted  flame  tips  did  consume 

Him  utterly  ;  and  then  the  form  dissolved, 

And,  dissipate  in  finest  dust,  arose 

Towards  the  bare  heavens,  and  did  overspread 

Them  like  a  film  ;  and  all  the  heavens  shrank 

As  from  the  touch  of  drought.     Thereat  the  stars 

Appeared,  but  all  so  changed  I  scarcely  knew  them  ; 

And  a  new  dread  appalled  me  as  I  saw 

Their  unfamiliar  shapes ;  and  I  beheld 

With  awe  that  they  no  longer  kept  with  fear 

The  sacred  level  of  the  sky,  but  they 

Emerged  and  stood  out  boldly  prominent  : 

And  they  did  seem  like  palms  and  through  the  wide, 

Disparted  branches,  shaken  by  the  swell 

Of  their  own  swift  expansion,  gleamed  their  fair, 

Smooth,  slender  stalks,  fast  rooted  in  the  deeps 

Of  the  Invisible. 

Then  suddenly 

New  energies  burst  violently  forth 
Around  me  everywhere  ;  the  earth  assumed 
An  altered  motion  and  the  trees,  with  cloven  trunks 
Out-spread  like  wings,  flew  past  me  like  huge  falcons. 
My  prostrate  form  was  winnowed  by  the  shocks 
Of  an  impassioned  longing  to  partake 
The  new  delirium  and  pursue  the  fugitives. 


SLEEP'S  STAINED  GLASS.  191 

The  blood  went  through  my  heart  like  knotted  ropes, 

Flowing  with  strong,  convulsive  throbbings  out 

To  the  swelled  finger  tips  :  and  painfully 

A  drop  oozed  through  the  overstrained  flesh 

And  fell  upon  the  ground.     There  as  I  gazed 

Upon  it  with  dilated  eyes,  the  bright, 

Red  globule  grew,  respondent  to  the  growing  sight, 

And  evenly,  curve  by  curve,  diffused  itself 

Far  round  me  over  the  denuded  earth, 

Now  smooth  as  glass  ;   till  all  was  crimson  stained. 

And  slowly,  fine  dark  lines,  like  veins,  appeared  ; 

And  I  then  knew  the  mesh  of  all  my  life 

Had  been  concealed  in  that  red  drop  and  lay 

There  awfully  apparent ;  and  I  closed 

My  eyes  in  terror  ;  and  confusion  like 

A  mist  rose  up  within  me  and  fulfilled 

My  total  being  ;  and  the  icy  hand 

Of  Fear  moved  through  it  and  distilled  it  all 

In  tears,  which  forced  my  lids  apart  and  fell 

Most  plenteously. 

But  when  I  looked  again, 
The  red  had  vanished,  and,  instead,  there  lay 
A  soft  transparency  upon  the  earth. 
Plating  it  over  with  a  foil  of  pearl  ; 
And  looking  down,  far  downward,  through 
The  vault  immeasurable,  I  plainly  saw 
The  countless  multitudes  of  all  who  had 


I'.IL'  SLEEP'S  STAINED  GLASS. 

Been  born  upon  the  rim  of  earth,  had  died, 

And  then  been  duly  sepulchred  within  it ; 

And  all  the  distant  phantoms  ceased  their  weird, 

Mysterious  movements,  and  in  unison, 

Turned  their  wan  faces  towards  me  ;  while  a  few 

Raised  baneful,  beckoning  fingers,  which  aroused 

Such  strong,  convulsive  struggles,  such  concussion 

Of  the  eternal,  elemental  Noes 

Within  me,  that  I  woke  amid  the  din 

Of  vast  explosions,  loud,  reverberant, 

And  found  me  lying  here  alive. 


MEMORY. 


A     I  RAUMF.NT. 

Mere  let  me  rest  within  this  quiet  grove  ! 

These  trees,  like  belted  soldiers,  shall  keep  watch 

Around  me  while  I  sleep.     Oh,  how  this  day's 

Hard  up-and-down  of  feet,  has  shaken  out 

All  my  crushed  life's  bright  grains,  through  double  sieves, 

Upon  the  dusty  road,  leaving  behind 

Hut  husky  coats  of  bran  to  fill  the  shrine 

Of  sleep  !  Oh,  that  a  wind  would  rise,  and  blow 

It  all  away  ere  I  awake  ! 

(Spirits  appear  over  the  head   of  the  sleeper,  and  move 
about  in  the  performance  of  some  mysterious  function.) 

FIRST  SPIRIT. 

He  sleeps  too  long  ! 

He  draws  too  near  ! 
O  sweetest  singer  of  our  throng, 

Go  bend  above  his  ear, 
And  sing  an  earth-remembered  song 

Of  love,  to  hold  him  here. 


194  MEMORY. 

SECOND    SPIRIT. 

O  great  is  the  power  of  Sleep, 
And  weary  the  toil  of  night  ! 

Then  only  agile  spirits  weep  ; 

For  hands  grow  weary  with  solemn  rite, 
From  Sleep's  broad  door  to  keep  the  light, 
Where  mortals  lie  with  strained  sight. 

THIRD  SPIRIT. 

His  eyes  are  beamless, 

But  his  sight  is  clear  ; 
His  sleep  is  dreamless, 

And  he  comes  so  near. 

0  swiftest  spirit  of  our  train 
Haste  !  haste  !  to  the  throned  year  ; 

And  fall  upon  thy  knees  and  cry, 
"( )  back  into  his  soul  again 
Send  awful  Memory  !" 

Memory  (approaching.) 

1  am  the  slow  pursuer 

Of  the  rapid  mind  ; 
1  am  the  quick  renewer 

Of  the  undefined, 
Sweet  image-lure, 

That  flies  to  weave  and  wind, 

And  backward  bind 
Eyes  still  impure. 


MEM  OR  Y. 

(At  the  head  of  the  sleeper) 
O  Sleep  !  (..)  umbrous  clad  ! 

( )  slumber-masked  and  fire-centered  ! 
In  vain  !  in  vain  thou  lookest  glad, 

For  thou  must  lose  what  I  have  entered. 
Dost  not  already  hear  the  thrill 
Of  tensest  wind  and  dangling  rill, 

Within  his  heart  ? — 
Impassioned  words  of  other  days 
And  remnants  of  etherial  lays, 

To  his  lips  start? 

In  vain  !  in  vain  !  thou  dost  embrace  him, 
While  Memory's  dappled  favors  grace  him, 
Disperse  thy  mists  about  his  head  ! 

Retake  thy  kisses  from  his  brow  ! 
Behold  !  the  spirits  all  have  fled. 

And  I  flee  now. 

Where  was  I  when  that  gentle  melody 

Blew,  like  a  bree/e,  across  the  forest  of  my  thought, 

And  rustled  so  the  dry,  dropped  leaves  of  fact, 

That  the  bright  birds  of  present  ecstasies 

Flew  frightened  from  its  branches?  Oh,  that  1 

Might  find  upon  me  the  minutest  clew  ! 

How  swiftly  would  I  run  to  find  that  scene, 

Which  left  this  throbbing  heart — this  burning  head  ! 

But  wheresoe'er  it  be,  though  near  or  far, 

Right,  left,  or  high  or  low,  I  doubt  me  not 

My  face  is  turned  from  it  away.   My  thoughts 


196  MEMORY. 

Lie  in  a  draught  that  sucks  them  from  the  spot. 

The  present  and  the  near  are  as  the  dead  ; 

Naught  seems  alive,  except  the  past — the  old: 

Oh,  I  have  drunk  the  liquor  of  some  vine 

Which  trailed  o'er  graves  !  or  sipped  the  witches'  wine 

Of  wild  grapes  born  and  nurtured  upon  ruins  '. 

Or  History  doth  wander  here  to  muse, 

And  having  found  me  as  I  lay  asleep, 

Hath  plunged  her  withered  hands  within  the  vase 

Of  fresh,  exuberant  youth,  and  passed,  by  stealth, 

Them  dripping  over  my  closed  eyes,  to  wake 

All  aged  and  faded  things  to  life,  though  age 

And  blight  and  death  wrinkle  the  sapped  Present. 

My  eyes  are  sunken  in  my  head- -so  far 

Contracted  from  their  natural  curves,  they  lie 

Below  the  level  of  the  living  day  ; 

Yea  !  on  the  bottom  of  the  sea  of  vision  ; 

And  see  the  many  sights  long  fallen  there. 

Hut  yet,  there  are  no  wrecks  of  olden  scenes 

Strewing  the  silent  floor  of  these  strange  depths  ; 

Nothing  is  broken,  ground  or  worn  away, 

By  the  soft  serges  of  the  upper  stress 

And  beat  of  life  ;  all  hath  the  same  clear  lines 

As  when  the  sharp,  sure  blades  of  my  young  sight 

Carved  them  from  Nature.     Effortless  and  free, 

My  mind  seems  swimming  in  its  first  bright  views: 

And  all  have  beauty  printed  on  them  plain, 

Like  the  raised  letters  of  the  blind. 


THE  UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 


Hold  thou  thy  life  more  firmly,  careless  one  ! 

It  leaves  thy  hand  too  lightly,  and  too  oft 

Doth  play  the  truant  to  its  sober  nurse  ;  — 

Sitteth  without  the  threshold  of  its  rest 

Too  often,  in  the  eager  sun  of  longing — 

Hangeth  on  thy  face,  as  ready,  at  a  word, 

To  leap  into  mine  own  and  perish  there. 

A  little  farther  from  me,  dangerous  girl  ! 

Hind  those  strong,  supple  eyes  or  sit  thou  down 

That  they  may  sooner  tire,  from  lifting  up 

Their  glances.     Set  those  lawless  hands  to  hold 

Each  other,  lest  their  slender  fingers  braid 

Themselves  with  mine  ;  and  silence  those  small  feet 

Whose  strokes  upon  the  floor  disclose  the  joints 

( )f  my  hard-wrought  resolve,  and  penetrate 

The  feeble  fabrication  with  their  wedges. 

Leave  thy  heart  only  free  for  this  sad  hour  ; 

Discharge  its  dangerous  retinue  of  beauty  ; 

For  hearts  alone  can  grasp  and  strive  with  pain, 

And  I  shall  need  thy  young  heart's  help  for  mine. 

Thou  art  my  ward  ;  and  yet  thy  keeper  needs 
One  key  to  guard  thee  safely  from  himself; — 


1!IS  TlfK   UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 

The  key  of  thy  dislike  ;  but  thou  dost  wear 

It  out  of  sight,  and  leavest  never  closed 

The  doorway  of  my  care,  and  in  and  out 

Pass  freely,  laughing  at  my  fears  :  yea  !  oft 

Will  seat  thee  in  the  warder's  room  and  smile 

To  see  him  try  to  fit  his  clumsy  keys 

Of  sternness  to  the  useless  lock. 

Did  ever  prisoner  before  so  treat 

Gruff  jailor?  or  a  bold  offender  turn 

Sweet  comrade  of  the  offended  in  the  act  ? 

And  yet  thou  sittest  here,  audacious  one, 

Secure  and  confident,  in  this  close  room 

Of  musty  records,  near  the  outer  door 

Which  opens  on  the  careless  multitude, 

And  guardest  it  so  fondly,  that  the  dust 

Doth  settle  on  the  latch.     So  thou,  within 

The  violated  chamber  of  my  care, 

Art  free  ;  and  I  am  captive  of  thy  sweet, 

Wild,  wayward  love.     Alas  !  what  sacrifice, 

That  the  bright  folds  of  love,  too  soon  unrolled 

From  thy  fleet  youthful  heart,  should  ever  float 

Upon  my  ruined  towers?  But  I  must  break 

The  weather-weakened  cord  of  my  mistake, 

Which  holds  it,  that  it  blow  away,  or  like 

A  gauxy  stream  cast  down  from  its  high  pinnacle 

Through  all  the  fine  dissections  of  the  air, 

lie  given  back  unto  its  elements. 

Yes,  dear  delinquent,  we  have  been  too  much 


THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS.  lllfl 

Together  ;  thy  clear  spirit  has  been  stilled 

Too  often,  in  the  hush  of  my  calm  thought  ; 

So  that  thy  head  bends  ever  o'er  its  pools, 

To  watch  their  pictured  margins.     Better  far, 

That  the  unfathomed  floods  of  thy  soft  hair 

Had  drowned  thy  childish  head  in  their  pure  deeps, 

Than  it  should  trickle  down  thy  drooping  form 

And  lie  in  little  plashes  on  the  floor. 

And  when  I  lift  theeup  and  stroke  thy  head, 

Drawing  the  scattered  tresses  back  again 

Within  their  natural  channels,  thou  dost  look 

So  calm  and  unsurprised  at  me,  it  seems 

My  dark,  old  form  had  bounded  all  thy  visions. 

But  yet,  I  do  believe  implicitly, 

That  thou  hast  never  seen  me  rightly,  child  ; 

Thy  looks  have  failed  to  reach  me,  being  checked 

By  some  swift  after- thought  of  tenderness  ; 

Or  the  fine  bow-curves  of  thine  eager  eyes 

Have  quivered  in  the  grasp  of  the  heart,  and  let 

The  loosened  missiles  fall  upon  the  ground  ; 

Or  some  soft,  early  words  of  mine,  not  shrunk 

And  all  misshapen  by  convention,  must 

Have  taken  form  of  thine  imaginings, 

And  risen  like  a  screen  before  me.     Yes, 

At  most  thou  knowest  my  form  and  lineaments, 

As  one  may  know  the  letters  of  a  word, 

Which  loosen  not  the  meaning  which  they  clasp. 


200  THR  UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 

Gray  hairs  do  not  affright  you  and  you  say, 
"  Tis  but  the  underside  of  the  leaf  that  turns 
And  brightens  in  the  sun."     Alas  !  my  child,     . 
The  winds  of  death  have  grasped  the  hidden  branches, 
And  do  shake  them  threateningly.     You  smile  each  time 
I  speak  of  wrinkles,  and  with  haste  insist, 
They  are  but  "welcome  crevices  which  show 
The  gleam  and  gold  within."     This  hard  dry  hand 
Would  bruise  thine  own  soft  tender  one, 
Holding  it  rigid  like  an  iron  glove  ; — 
But  you  "would  rub  the  metal  till  it  shone 
And  showed  your  smiling,  happy  face  in  it"  ;  or  kiss 
The  rugged  thing  and  claim  triumphantly, 
That  "lips  were  feebler,  softer  things  than  hands, 
And  yet  the  touch  had  never  injured  them." 
These  arms  that  have  been  straightened  and  outstretched. 
Through  many  years  of  stiff  expectancy, — 
Could  they  be  bended  to  the  pliant  curves 
Which  rounded  youth  might  rest  in  easily? 
Love  would  but  warp  their  rigid  muscles,  girl ; — 
Could  never  make  them  flexible  again. 
What,  wilful,  stubborn  one,  still  unconvinced  ? 
Still  in  your  twilight  blushes  find  the  clue 
To  speech,  and  say,  that  you  have  seen  my  arms 
"Cross  over  and  enfold  the  spacious  couch 
( )f  the  breast,  and  could  they  not,  with  lesser  strain, 
Meet  midway  and  enclose  one  little  sleeper?" 
No,  dear,  fallacious  reasoner,  ever  wrong  ! 


THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS.  2 

For  they  would  tremble  all  so  fearfully, 
That  Sleep's  veined  onyx  stones  might  soon  be  jarred 
From  thy  smooth  brow  and  fall  upon  the  floor, 
Breaking  to  frightful  dreams  ;  then  thou  wouldst  wake 
And  moan  and  welter  in  thy  tears  till  day. 

The  Years  that  build  upon  our  upright  lives 
Their  fatal  stairs,  until  they  reach  the  top, 
And  tear  away  the  banner-breath  with  scorn, 
Build  ever  on  the  front  and  openly  ; 
And  thou  mayst  see  that  they  have  mounted  high — 
Already  hang  upon  my  breast,  and  make 
Me  bend  a  little  towards  them  ;— pardon  !  child, 
This  stoop  doth  bring  thy  lips  so  near  mine  own, 
I  could  not  help  but  kiss  them.  'Twas  the  Years 
I  spoke  of  caused  it.     But  if  thou  couldst  climb 
With  them,  secure  upon  their  frail  supports, 
Such  kiss  were  not  a  theme  for  penitence. 

Too  late,  thou  earnest,  little  loiterer, 
To  build  of  fairy  stuff  the  bridal  room  with  me  ! 
Thy  fragile  gems  and  dainty  properties — 
How  will  they  match  the  strong  well-chiseled  stone, 
Which  I  must  lay  with  plumb-line  in  the  walls? 
How  will  thy  careless,  discontinuous  touch, 
Thy  gleeful  heapings  of  thy  pretty  toys 
And  handful  throwings  on  the  trembling  pile, 
Assist  my  steady  cautious  masonry? 
But  if  the  odd,  unlovely  structure  rose, 
Despite  these  sad  discordancies  of  hand, 


202  THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 

So  high,  it  needed  cover ;  still  the  work 
Must  stop  from  graver  difference  ;  for  / 
Could  roof  it  only  with  the  flat  expanse 
Of  split,  disjointed  memories,  through  which 
Oblivious  rains  would  beat  upon  our  heads; 
But  thou  wouldst  take  the  flawless,  perfect  piece 
Of  thine  undamaged  present,  and  wouldst  dome 
The  room  luxuriously.   Besides,  there  is 
The  floor,  my  little,  sweet  incompetent; — 
What  wise,  ingenious  plan  canst  thou  devise, 
That  we  may  jointly  build  the  fitting  floor? 
For  I  am  footsore,  weary  and  worn  out, 
With  treading  on  life's  hard  impossibilities, 
Its  sharp  conventions  and  discomfitures, 
And  surging  aspirations  frozen  stiff 
In  early  ridges,  by  some  merciless  cold 
Of  quick  heart-sickness,  and  so  left  to  stand 
Like  awful  corrugations  in  the  brow  of  Doubt. 
I  have  laid  off  my  shoes  and  would  acquaint 
My  feet  with  softer  ways,  where  God  doth  not 
So  fend  Himself  with  perils,  wrap  his  truths 
In  hard  ungracious  obstacles,  but  leaves 
The  wondrous  courses  of  His  being  all 
Unclosed  before  us.  Better  shod  art  thou, 
With  wholesome  energies  which  shield  thy  feet, 
And  strong  enthusiasms  ringing  loud 
Upon  the  flinty  ways,  and  striking  fire 
Of  fine  exhilaration  every  step. 


THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS.  208 

Why,  thou  mighst  lay  the  floors  with  piercing  thorns, 

With  upright  needles  or  with  adders'  teeth, 

And  dance  upon  them  painlessly  ;  nor  think, 

In  thine  invincible  novitiate, 

Which  turns  them  into  harmless,  temperless  blades 

Of  grass,  what  cruel,  stubble  fields  they  were 

To  my  bare  feet. 

But  say  'tis  all  accomplished, 
And  we  shut  alone  in  that  abode, 
Wouldst  thou  not  seek  thine  oriel  window  soon, 
And  stand  there  flinging  forth  thy  voice  with  joy, 
Feeding  the  doves  of  fancy  with  thy  song, 
And  sketching  faint  thy  morrows  on  the  pane? 
Whilst  I  beside  my  western  casement,  grave, 
With  ocean  charts  of  yesterdays  in  hand, 
Would  sit  instructing  Death's  black  eagles  there. 
Too  late,  thou  earnest,  O  my  torturer  ! 
We  both  must  travel  many  leagues  before 
We  cross  that  width  of  bridal  room  and  meet 
With  faces  inward.      No  despairing  leap, 
Xor  violent  clasping  of  unequal  arms, 
Could  now  reduce  the  spice  one  little  inch. 

How  hath  thy  strange  love  grown,  precocious  reaper? 
Can  the  waste  fields  of  retrospect  produce 
Such  golden  fruitage?  or  the  somber  seeds 
Of  actualities  so  compensate 
The  gay,  glad  sower?  Hut  this  is  not  love 


2(14  'I UK   UNLQUAL  LOl'ERS. 

You  gather,  child.      Nay,  hear  me  patiently  ; 

The  seed  of  love  is  bright,  like  pearls,  and  hued 

With  sparkling  joys  ;  and  it  is  flung  by  Hope, 

Far  forward,  as  the  sower  sows,  and  sprouts 

And  blossoms  as  it  falls  ;  but  the  hard  grains 

Thou  scatterest  were  not  taken  from  the  keeps 

And  crystal  treasuries  of  lavish  youth, 

But  stolen  from  my  granaries  of  sorrow. 

Alas  !  the  fruit  they  yield  has  not  the  glow 

Ami  bloom  of  thine  untarnished  heart,  but  lies 

In  thy  bright  hand  all  staled  by  trembling  touches, 

Streaked  by  frequent  tears,  and  withered  by  hot  sighs. 

But  thou  hast  been  too  long  here,  fellow- heart  ; 
And  now  thou  must  go  from  me,  for  thy  peace, 
To  places  that  await  thee,  noble  tasks 
That  need  thy  little  efforts,  and  to  mirth 
That  may  not  float  on  any  voice  save  thine  ; 
And  thou  must  hasten,  ere  the  shining  trail 
Of  one  who  goes  before  thee  through  this  world, 
Shall  fade  away  ;  already  doth  the  shade 
Of  my  hard  rocks  fall  far  along  the  way  ; 
And  thy  young  eyes  have  turned  so  oft  with  mine 
Upon  the  mighty  outlines  of  my  nearer  goal, 
They  may  not  seize  and  bind  the  broken  lines 
And  glimmering  visibilities  of  thine. 

Continue  silent,  child,  and  serious  ! 
Letting  my  thought  glide  through  thy  thoughtfulness, 


THE  UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 

To  reach  the  farthest  turning-goal  of  doubt, 
And  come  back  freely  to  thy  confidence. 

Kach  age  hath  its  own  gifts  and  offices. 
In  fixed  relation  to  the  rest  of  life — 
Man-life,  or  (loci-life,  round  it.     Child  with  child 
Must  join  the  margins  of  their  separate  joys, 
( )r  leave  the  ragged  edges  so  they  wound. 
Childhood  alone  doth  have  the  sacred  art 
Of  ministering  to  the  child  : — holdeth  the  clue 
To  the  near  goods  he  needeth,  or  the  power 
To  help  him  lift  and  fit  them  to  his  heart. 
Youth  only  beat  with  youth  can  make  the  foil — 
The  precious  writing  sheet,  whereon  the  heavens  pen 
Their  holy  formulas  of  happiness  ; 
And  man  who  strives  alone  with  man,  gains  aught 
Of  Cod  to  demonstrate  his  victory. 
Hear  this  !   the  separate  parallels  of  strands 
Which  make  our  song-life's  noble  instrument, 
I  )o  lack  a  crossing,  vibrant  warp  to  bind 
The  upper  and  the  lower  strings  ;   and  thou, 
So  far  away  from  me  in  thy  tense  youth, 
Canst  give  but  faint  harmonic  tones  to-day 
To  my  hard-smitten  age  so  soon  to  break. 

There  is  another  meaning,  earnest  one, 
In  our  fixed  places  here  which  touches,  too, 
Our  places  elsewhere  ;  for  it  seems 
We  measure  here  with  careful,  accurate  hand 


20G  THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 

The  flight  we  take  hereafter  from  death's  perch. 
With  life's  first  motions  we  draw  slowly  forth 
From  some  dim,  ductile  mass  of  precious  ore, 
A  golden  thread,  and  wind  unceasingly, 
In  even  coils,  and  hold  them  on  our  arms  ; 
Death  but  unwinds  the  thread  and  leaves  us  di/,/y 
Where  it  ends.     So  thou  must  run  to  work, 
And  draw  with  swiftness,  till  the  gathered  loops 
Equal  mine  own  ;   for  look  thou  at  thine  arm 
So  nearly  empty, — all  thou  hast  secured 
Could  scarcely  serve  thee  for  a  wedding  ring. 

But  when  thou  goest  from  me,  I  shall  lose 
Of  precious  things  far  more  than  I  can  count 
Upon  the  failing  finger-tips  of  speech. 
My  wondrous  gains  in  thee  have  all  been  scored 
Upon  the  luminous  pages  of  thy  presence  : 
Naught  that's  prepared  for  writing,  is  so  broad 
As  that,  or  offers  room,  at  best,  for  more 
Than  title  page  of  name  and  arabesque  of  smile 
For_/?tf/jr  to  it.     Absence  hath  no  sage 
Arithmetic  to  sum  my  losses  by  ; 
And  leaves  me  but  a  little  book  to  print 
Thy  changeful  image  in.      Let  me  but  read 
Some  first  lines  only  of  the  wondrous  volume, 
Ere  thou  dost  close  it  with  thy  parting  look. 

Here  find  I  written  with  a  trembling  hand, 
"The  low,  sweet  song  before  the  evening  prayer;" 


THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 

My  prayer  shall  find  less  pleasing  company 

In  sighs  and  groans.     And  here  I  find  inscribed  : 

"The  light  which  leadeth  to  my  darkened  room  ;"— 

Hut  I  must  grope  my  way  there  now  alone  ; 

And  here,  "The  airy  bridge  of  dreams  between 

My  morrow  and  my  yesterday,  o'er  which 

I  draw,  in  calm,  untroubled  happiness, 

The  captive  chain  of  all  my  past  delights  ;"- 

Why,  they  must  swim  in  floods  of  sleeplessness, 

Or  stay  behind.      But  stay  !  these  literal  forms 

Are  much  too  strong  for  my  frail  sight  and  break 

The  shafts  of  vision  into  vexing  parts, 

That,  dropping,  blind  me  with  their  rapid  lights, 

Leaving  my  brain  confused.     So  let  me  close 

The  eyes  to  meditate,  and  read  the  rest 

From  the  raised  letters  of  thy  vivid  hand. 

There  !  that  is  better,  child,  and  I  proceed. 

The  hooks  of  thought  we  fling  into  the  deep 

Of  unknown  things,  were  long  worn  smooth  with  me, 

And  gathered  nothing,  when  thou  earnest  here 

To  barb  them  over  with  thy  curious  words, 

And  aid  my  feeble  hand  to  draw  them  often  forth, 

To  view  the  chance  entanglements  upon  them. 

But  when  thou  goest  from  me,  I  shall  walk 

The  turfless  shore  alone,  and  drag  behind, 

Through  empty  waters,  those  appendages, 

Weary  and  praying  for  the  rope  of  days 

To  drop  apart,  that  I  may  fall  and  rest. 


208  THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 

And  there  are  beings  who  lie  down  with  us  at  night, 
Who  slumber  longer  than  the  weary  frame  ;-— 
Spirits  that  fill  the  eye  and  move  the  hand, 
And  urge  the  heart  into  a  quicker  pace  ; 
Internal  Beauty,  Aspiration,  Hope  ; — 
They  will  not  waken  at  the  harsh  complaint 
And  heavy  voice  of  age,  obscurely  heard, 
Like  the  accustomed  rumble  of  the  street  ; 
Hut  one  must  come  and  whisper  tenderly, 
Touching  to  motion  the  light  wheels  of  the  ear, 
With  the  fine  draft  of  music, — loading  up 
The  spirit  with  the  lure  of  morning  ecstasy 
And  sweetest  utterance,  and  quickening 
The  drowsy  lids  with  silken  whips  of  eyes 
That  play  above  them. 

Thou  shalt  elsewhere  be, 
Some  morning  when  I  rise,  alone,  to  meet 
The  day  without  these  fairy  ministrants. 
I,  who  have  stroked  thy  pleasant,  loosened  hair, 
Until  the  hidden  shuttle  of  the  touch 
Did  weave  its  fluctuant  flosses  into  cloth 
Of  floating  gold,  must  grasp  the  slippery  threads 
Of  incoherent  energies  to  work 
Them,  somehow,  into  decent  burial  clothes. 
These  eyes  that  have  so  often  lain  at  ease, 
Within  the  peaceful  Saturn-rings  of  thine, 
To  intercept  thine  own  bright  visionings, 


THE   UN  EQUAL  LOVERS.  L'O'.l 

Must  early  feel  Death  buckle  up  the  lids 
And  press  the  lingering  light  out  ruthlessly. 


Thou  weepest,  but  'tis  less  from  thine  own  pain 
Than  from  thy  sympathy  with  mine. 
Ah,  child,  'tis  pleasing  to  dispute  the  point 
With  thee,  and  I  am  happy  that  to-day 
Thou  thinkest  it  is  peace,  to  hold  thy  place 
( )f  cramped  and  painful  attitude  and  poise 
Of  labored  equilibrium  upon 
The  harsh  projections  of  my  shattered  walls  ; 
l!ut  the  relief  of  pliant  muscles,  ease 
Of  unstrained  wishes  and  the  liberal  grace 
Of  natural  actions  led  by  aptitudes, 
Shall  safe  receive  thee  in  their  gentle  arms, 
When  thou  dost  loose  thy  hold  about  my  neck, 
And  fall  upon  the  lower,  broader  ground 
Of  youthful  fellowship.     There  thou  shalt  find 
Creatures  with  fine,  smooth,  tender  hands  like  thine, 
Whose  clasp  shall  be  love's  sure  cohesiveness, 
Not  the  false  holdings  of  my  roughened  ones 
Which  caught  the  fluttering  fabric  of  thy  youth 
I'pon  their  bramble  touches.     There  thy  feet 
Shall  don  the  holy  shoon  of  pure  Love's  footprints, 
As  she  guideth  thee  along  the  doubtful  way 
To  perfect  treasures  stored  for  thee  by  Heaven, 
In  open  coffers  of  supreme  embraces, 


L'10  /'//A    UNEQUAL  LOVERS.      . 

Or  beneath  dark  stones  of  sad  experience. 

But  them  must  never  cease  to  follow  her, 

Nor  ever  fail  to  put  thy  willing  feet 

Exactly  in  the  traces  of  her  own, 

Until  thou  gainest  so  the  fashion  of  her  step, 

That  the  hard  earth  shall  soften  under  thee. 

And  thou  shall  set  thy  fingers  only  where 

Love's  cunning  hand  hath  made  a  place  for  them, 

And  lined  it  with  the  blessing  of  her  smile. 

Yet  fear  to  be  too  eager  in  pursuit, 

Or  play  too  fast  thine  mimicries  ; 

But  follow  leisurely  the  thoughtful  way, 

Leaving  each  object  with  a  solemn  joy, 

And  looking  often  back  regretfully. 

Be  not  afraid  to  rest,  to  lie  thee  down, 

Aye,  close  the  eyes  and  sleep  ;  thou  shalt  not  lose 

One  line  of  progress  in  the  longest  dream  ; 

For  love  shall  stoop  and  take  thee  in  her  arms 

And  carry  thee  till  morning — harken  !  child — 

When  thou  mayst  wake  to  find  me  bending  over  thee. 

Yes,  little  weeper,  thou  shalt  come  again 

To  me,  and  I  shall  claim  thee  though  my  right 

Be  challenged  by  the  highest  Lords  of  Heaven. 

Thou  art  mine  own  to-day  ;  shall  one  pretend 

That  there  is  law  to  void  my  ownership, 

Until  T  waive  my  legal  titles?  What  ! 

Because  I  send  thee  out  to  play  an  hour, 

To  scatter  song  and  gather  fragrancies  ; 


THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS.  211 

To  stoop  o'er  dazzled,  blinded  flowers  and  make 

The  sunlight  visible  :   to  run  beside 

Some  lonely  stream  to  keep  it  company, 

Or  throw  thy  moving,  pliant  image  on 

The  silent  pools  aweary  with  their  fixed 

Tenacious  grasp  of  moveless  shadows  there  ; — 

Do  I  bestow  thee  on  the  natural  world, 

And  thus  abandon  mine  own  equities? 

No  !  sweetest  chattle  of  my  heart's  estate 

And  best  possession  of  my  future,  No  ! 

Thou  dost  remain  mine  own  immortal  property  ; 

Mine  !  by  the  strong  preemption  of  the  soul  ; 

Mine  !  by  a  clear,  divine  investiture  ; 

Mine  !  by  the  desperate  struggles  of  the  mind 

To  break  the  barriers  of  the  hands  and  lips, 

And  gain  the  perfect,  interfusing  touch 

Of  the  full,  liberal  life  of  Heaven  ;  and  mine  ! 

By  my  supreme  and  sacred  poverty 

'Fore  God  and  awful  emptiness  of  hand. 

Though  all  the  Hierarchs  of  Heaven  stand 

Opposing,  and  (rod's  august  magistrates 

Lend  their  commissions  to  the  infamy, 

I  would  protest  against  the  deed  so  forcibly, 

And  make  such  clamor  at  the  false  decree, 

That  holy  angels  should  grow  pale  in  fear — 

Should  fall  upon  their  knees  and  pray  in  whispers. 

Go  now,  my  child,  contend  writh  weaker  hearts 
Than  mine,  in  love  and  loving  exercise  ; 


212  THE   UNEQUAL  LOVERS. 

Strengthen  thyself  with  thought,  and  teach  thine  eyes 

To  find  the  weakness  of  thine  adversary's  ; 

Constrain  thy  spirit  to  a  dart  and  hurl 

The  missile  'gainst  the  thickened  rind  of  the  world 

And  break  it  open  ;  tutor  thy  weak  hands 

Till  iron  seemeth  soft  and  thou  canst  twist 

The  lightnings  round  thy  fingers,  like  a  curl 

Of  thy  bright  hair  ; — then  come  again  to  me, 

And  we  shall  make  a  pair  whom  (iod  is  proud  of. 


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